


with bloody feet across the hallow’d ground

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Horror, Explicit Language, F/M, Gore, Horror, M/M, Violence, everyone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The setting, Tony decides, is perfect for a bad horror movie.  Steve drags him along for a week into the wild because he’s friends with Thor, who’s friends with Clint, whose family owns a cabin in the woods.  Tony hates all of them, particularly when they start dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Everyone dies. I’m going to be upfront about this from the very first word. Every single person you love will die. Brutally. Probably screaming, probably bloodied, probably in a way that will make you hate me. If you don’t want to see them die, then stop reading right now.
> 
> ii. On that same vein, this is like all those horror movies that are scary but you know they’re going to die, so you just kind of heave a big sigh and plunge in anyway. I kept thinking of the _Cabin Fever_ remake—which, no, I will not have those levels of gore—how, at the end, Matthew Daddario’s character comes out from his binge drinking hideaway and is like, _holy shit I survived_ , and you just know, and then he gets shot in the head. That’s how this is going to be. I’m going to scare you, or try to, and then I’m going to kill everyone, but you’re ready for it.

“The Barton family cabin,” Tony says slowly, “Are you daft?”

 

“It’ll be fun,” Steve says, tugging off his shirt in an attempt to distract Tony, “Please.”

 

“With no wifi?” Tony repeats, “This sounds like your worst idea ever.  I don’t even _know_ anyone named Barton.”

 

“Stop being an asshole,” Steve says, setting a knee on either side of Tony’s legs as he plucks the tablet from his fingers and drops it onto the desk next to his bed, “You have three classes with Clint.”

 

“He has a stupid ass name.  One letter off, and he’s prime time for insults,” Tony says, folding his arms across his chest, “You can keep getting naked, but I’m not going.”

 

“You are,” Steve says, grinning before he leans down to start mouthing at Tony’s neck, who relaxes despite himself.

 

 “Is there anyone at least halfway decent joining this awful idea?”

 

“Bruce said he’d go if you do,” Steve presses the words into his skin, “And Nat’s going to be there.”

 

“She’s scary!” Tony exclaims, reaching up to push Steve away, “Give me one good reason why I should let you convince me.”

 

“I’ll wear plaid,” Steve offers, sitting back on his heels.

 

Tony blinks.  “Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing at Steve.

 

——

 

At the utter ass crack of dawn three days later, Clint rolls up in his truck, Thor honking obnoxiously behind him from a jeep.  Half the resident hall starts shouting out of their windows as he does so, but he just lifts a hand through the sun roof, and then they’re yelling for a different reason.

 

“Why,” Tony mutters as Steve herds him out of the door, Bruce and Bucky following behind them, “First, you want to take me into the woods, and now you want to wake me up at ungodly hours.”

 

“This is going to be fun,” Steve says, “Trust me.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Dude, stop,” Steve says as he approaches the jeep, “My CA is ready to call the cops on you, chill out.”

 

“Steve!” Thor thunders, reaching over to fling open the passenger door, “Are you _ready_?”

 

Steve laughs, giving Tony a shove toward the backseat before he climbs in.    Tony grumbles the whole way, but he clambers into the back, taking Steve’s backpack and tossing it behind him.  Bruce joins him, curling up against Tony and punching his thigh when Tony starts to whine.  “Go back to sleep,” Bruce mumbles, and Tony heaves a sigh, but does as he’s told, settling in.

 

Bucky joins Clint and Natasha in the truck, and then they’re off.  “Any idea where we’re going?” Steve asks as they hit the highway.

 

“Clint said Maine,” Thor says, “Deep Maine.  Said we were going off the reservation.  He’s very excited.”

 

“Admittedly, I’ve never really talked to him,” Steve says.

 

Thor flashes him a grin and says, “He’s pretty cool.  Nat’s a scary motherfucker, but Clint just ignores her bullshit, and it’s hilarious.  We all went to the beach one time, right, and Nat was being a right wanker, just muttering darkly about how much she hated sand and whatnot, so Clint hauled her over one shoulder and threw her in the ocean.  He’s awesome, you’ll like him.  I’m surprised you got pisspot back there to come.”

 

“I told him I’d wear plaid,” Steve says, picking up the shoulder of his shirt, “That was enough.”

 

Thor laughs loudly, and Tony kicks his seat.  “You know there’s no wifi, right, chicken shit?” Thor says, reaching back to grab Tony’s ankle and shaking his leg.

 

“Dude, _fuck off_ ,” Tony says, kicking at Thor’s arm until he lets him go.

 

“Shit, zitch dog!” Thor exclaims, banging a fist against the wheel.

 

“No!” Steve shouts, “You didn’t say we were playing!”

 

“We’re always playing, Rogers,” Thor says before he reaches for the radio and adds, “Shut your pie hole, Stark!”

 

He keeps it low regardless, but Tony still huffs and shifts until he’s more comfortable, Bruce draped over him.  Thor finds a classic rock station, and Steve sings along under his breath as Zeppelin comes on.  The first bit of their drive is mostly in silence, occasionally calling out when they see a dog, and Tony throwing a wild punch when a buggy goes by.

 

About two hours in, when it’s something close to a respectable hour, Thor calls Clint, putting him on speaker.  “What’s happenin’?” Clint says by way of answer.

 

“Dude, pee break.  Soon.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  Nat, pee break.”

 

“Just because—”

 

“You’ve had to pee for an hour, shut up,” Clint says, and then he hangs up.

 

They find a rest stop a half hour later, and as they all get out, stretching, Bruce comes alive, breathing in deeply as he closes his eyes.  “This was a good idea,” he says softly, and Steve just smiles in response.

 

“I hate you,” Tony snarls at him, but Bruce walks away, leaving Tony to sulk by himself.

 

“Come on,” Steve says, taking his hand, “Stop being like this.”

 

Tony gives him his best unimpressed face and says, “There are _trees_.”

 

“They’re good for oxygen,” Thor says, cuffing Tony on the back of the head so he staggers forward and groans.

 

“You all suck,” Tony mutters, trudging toward the building hidden by trees.

 

Inside, Bucky is browsing the leaflets, and Steve goes over to him, bumping shoulders with him before he picks up one for the Flume Gorge.  “New Hampshire,” Bucky points out, but Steve pockets it anyway, “We should do this.”  He picks up one for zip-lining, grinning.

 

“I’m down for that,” Steve says, taking one to look at it.

 

They continue looking until the others start emerging from the bathrooms, and then they go to take their turn.  Back in the car, Bruce digs out snacks, and, immediately, Tony’s in a better mood.  “This is why I keep you around,” he says, snatching the bag of Chex Mix from Bruce and settling back in his corner, seatbelt undone as he yanks open the bag.

 

Back on the road, Thor turns up the volume on the radio a little, and, before long, everyone’s singing along when Bohemian Rhapsody comes on, and Steve just smiles widely, looking around at them all.  And truthfully, he should have seen it coming, but when Clint takes an exit and leads them onto a long, winding road with one lane and towering trees on either side, he can’t help but groan when Tony says, “Watch out for axe murderers.”

 

“We’re not even that far off the main road,” Bruce says, and lives to regret that.

 

They stay on the same road for about an hour, and then Clint takes another turn, plunging them deeper until they erupt onto a poorly paved road with scattered houses, and Tony reaches up, snatching Thor’s phone from one of the cup holders.  He doesn’t let Clint get a word in edgewise before he says, “Barton, where the fuck are you taking us?”

 

“Okay, listen, I know, every horror movie in the world tells us not to stop at the creepy local gas station, but the truck is a beast, and she needs fuel.”

 

“No,” Tony says, “You’re—why didn’t you fill up before?  If some freaky ass kid tries to bite one of us, we’re hightailing it back to campus.”

 

“Dude, this isn’t _Cabin Fever_ ,” Clint says, “I think I’d know if my own property was sitting on a diseased lake.”

 

“Do you know if it’s haunted by an insane hell demon that will result in us locking Nat in the basement under a fucking trap door?”

 

“I resent that you think I’m not strong enough to resist a hell demon,” Natasha says, “Also, if that does happen, I’ll gut you first.”

 

“I don’t doubt it.  Do you at least have guns?”

 

“Duh,” Clint says, “My whole family hunts.”

 

“By the rules,” Nat adds in, “They’re so boring.”

 

“There are endangered animals in Maine, you sadist!”

 

“If a grizzly comes anywhere near us, I’m shooting it.”

 

“You are not,” Clint says, “I’ll handle it.  There are _protocols_.”

 

“Gas station,” Bucky’s voice drifts over.

 

“Hallelujah!” Clint exclaims before the line cuts.

 

“Don’t do it, Thor, or we shall perish!” Tony cries, collapsing against Bruce, who laughs, rolling his eyes.

 

Thor follows Clint off the road onto a normal looking gas station, though Tony still peers skeptically out of the window.  “They’re going to eat you alive,” Steve says before he gets out, and Tony flips him off.

 

“I’m _starving_ ,” Thor groans as he gets out, “You pump, I’ll get food?”  He tosses Steve the keys, who pockets them and heads over to the pump.

 

“There’s a grocery store before the cabin,” Clint says as he wrestles Bucky into getting gas for him, “We can stop and stock up before we get there.”

 

“Still starving,” Thor says, leading the way toward the store.

 

Tony rolls down the window, resting his arms against the side of the car as he says, “What if we all end up dead?”

 

“We’re not going to,” Steve says, shaking his head, “We’re going to have an amazing, relaxing week with just each other and nature’s company, and then we’re going to go back to school and work our asses off until graduation.”

 

“That sounds like a lie,” Tony says, and then abruptly disappears.

 

Steve blinks, looking into the car and laughing when he finds Bruce wrapped around Tony, squeezing him.  “You’re going to be _fine_ , Tony.  No one is going to try to kill you except us.”

 

“That’s reassuring,” Tony mutters, though Steve quirks an eyebrow when he doesn’t try to get away from Bruce and gets a nasty face in return.

 

Inside, Thor starts hunting down chips as Clint goes over to the drinks.  “There’s no one at the counter,” Thor whispers as he goes by.

 

“They’re probably out back with a shotgun.”

 

“We keep our shotguns in house,” a voice says, and they both jump, turning.

 

“Hi,” Clint says, waving, “That’s probably better.  We store ours in a shed, and it’s always hairy at night when you think you might need one.”

 

“Mhm,” the man grunts as he makes his way over to the counter, “Where are you boys headed?”

 

“Barton residence,” Clint says, “You know it?”

 

“Mhm.  Nasty piece of forest out there.”

 

“It’s alright,” Clint says, “We like to be secluded.”

 

“Yeah?  Secluded’s a good word for it.”

 

Clint nods, turning back toward the drinks, frowning.  Thor comes up beside him with an armful of snacks, and Clint laughs.  “Dude, I told you we were stopping at a store before we got to the cabin.”

 

“Listen, if I keep Tony well fed, he won’t complain as much, so this is damage control.  Bucky likes juice.”

 

“How?” Clint says, turning to him in disbelief, “He’s my best friend’s boyfriend, and you know him better than I do.”

 

“Yeah, but he also hangs out with Steve.”

 

“Whatever,” Clint grumbles, reaching in to grab a juice for Bucky and a soda for Nat, “You want anything?”  Thor just beams at him, so Clint starts filling his arms with various drinks.

 

When they go up to pay, the man stares at them for a long moment before he starts ringing up their things and says, “You sure you want to go up to that house?”

 

“Yeah,” Clint says slowly, “My family owns it.”

 

“That so?  Interesting.”

 

“Yeah?” Clint says, “In what way?”  The bell on the door chimes, admitting Nat, who comes over and snatches her soda once it’s been rung up.

 

“Stories,” the man says, “Heard some kids got lost on their vacation last year round those woods.”

 

“Well, they should have used a map,” she says coldly, “Are you almost done?  Tony has started singing.”

 

“It’s like having a child,” Thor muses, “It’s fun.”

 

“He’s not,” Natasha snaps, “I told you I didn’t want to invite him.”

 

“Part of the package deal with Steve, unfortunately,” Clint says before turning back to the man, “Thanks!”

 

“Be careful up there, you hear?” he says, handing Clint his change, “Don’t want no trouble around here again.”

 

“Spooky,” Thor says before he takes his chips and leaves, and as they’re heading back over to the pumps, he adds, dropping his voice, “You tell Tony any of that shit, and I’ll kill you myself.”

 

Clint just cackles.

 

——

 

The “grocery” store that they stop at is nothing more than an over glorified corner store, but it has beer, and Steve claims he makes a mean Italian dish, so he heads off for the pasta while Tony bemoans the lack of whiskey.

 

“Come here, young padawan,” Thor says, leading him over to the end of the liquor section, and Tony nearly does a jig.

 

They shop for nearly an hour, Nat and Bucky teaming up with Steve while they discuss various meals, Thor and Tony picking out the best of the liquor, and Clint and Bruce getting everything else.  When they finally start unloading on the front counter, the girl behind the register sighs heavily and leaves her bead loom to come ring them up.

 

“The hell are you buying all this shit for?” she asks, and Tony smirks at her.

 

“We’re being dragged halfway across the wilderness to be eaten by rabid wolves,” he says, leveling up the snark, but then she flicks out a knife at him, pointing the danger end at him.

 

“Careful,” she says, not looking at him as she continues to punch in numbers, “That’s happened up here.”

 

“Right,” Tony says, carefully stepping away and over to Steve, searching for his hand blindly.  Steve just smiles and takes his flailing hand, letting Tony wind their fingers tightly together.

 

“We’re going up to the Barton residence,” Clint says proudly, smiling at her.

 

The girl laughs.  “That oughta be interestin’,” she says, and then looks up at him, her head tilted in a way that they can only see the whites of her eyes, “Don’t drink the water.”

 

“Seen that one,” Clint says smoothly, though he taps the counter nervously, “Water’s fine.”

 

“That’s borin’,” she says, going back to her ringing, “How come you’re going up there?”

 

“My parents own the place,” Clint says, “Said we could use it for a week.”

 

“You in college?”

 

“Seniors.  You?”

 

She gives him this deadpan expression that Natasha laughs at, and the girl smirks her way.  “High school, sometimes,” she says, “But it’s far, and I don’t care, so only when I’m bored.”

 

“That works?” Bruce asks disbelievingly.

 

“No,” she says, and that’s that.  She doesn’t speak or answer any more of their questions until she’s tallied it up, delivered the blow, and then she asks, “You got guns up there?”

 

“We do,” Clint says, frowning.

 

“You keep ‘em in house?” she asks.

 

“No,” he says slowly, “In the shed.”

 

“That’s stupid,” she says, handing over his receipt, “Probably don’t wanna tell people that.”

 

And then she’s turning back to her bead loom, and Clint stares at her dumbly for a second until Bucky grabs his elbow and steers him out, grabbing one of the bags.  “She—” Tony begins, but Steve just drags him away.

 

“Okay, wait,” Tony says, digging his heels into the ground when they get outside.

 

“What are you, four?” Steve asks, letting go of him.

 

“That was some seriously creepy shit!” he exclaims, pointing back to the store.  When no one pays him any attention, he continues, “Come on, you can’t tell me that didn’t sound ominous.  _Probably don’t wanna tell people that_.  Sounds like she’s gonna round up her other high school dropouts and shoot us up.  _Clint_.”

 

“Wow, I got first name usage, it must be important,” Clint says, opening the door to the truck.

 

“Guys, come on,” Tony says, begrudgingly following, “At least admit that that was weird.”

 

“You should have heard the guy in the gas station,” Clint calls over his shoulder before the door shuts.

 

“Oh, come on!” Thor groans, opening his door, “I told you not to say anything!”

 

“What!” Tony shouts, “No way.  We’re going home.  I’m not going up to a fucking cabin in the fucking woods if you’ve had two creepy fucking conversations in one day.”

 

“Get in the jeep, Tony,” Bruce says, putting a hand against his lower back and trying to encourage him over to the jeep.

 

“To go home,” he says, “I’m not going up there.  I have seen enough scary movies to know what comes next.”

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, stopping and taking a breath before he turns around.  He nods to Bruce, who takes Steve’s bag, going over to the jeep.  “Hey,” Steve says, reaching forward to curl his hands around Tony’s jaw, “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Horror movie law is that you don’t go to a cabin in the woods if creepy people are telling you not to,” Tony says firmly, looking up at him, “It’s the same as not going into a closet or looking under a bed.”

 

“How many scary movies did you watch before we left?” Steve asks because he knows him.

 

“Six, shut up,” Tony says because he can see Steve’s smile trying to force its way out, and he can’t deal with him making fun right now, so he continues, “I’m serious.”

 

It disappears instantly.  “I know,” Steve says before he steps in closer, leaning down to kiss him softly.  When he pulls back, Tony inhales slowly.  “Okay?”

 

“Just don’t let anyone kill me,” Tony says quietly, lifting a hand to curl around Steve’s forearm.

 

“I promise,” Steve says, “I’ll protect you, but only if you try to have fun.”

 

Tony sighs loudly.  “Fine,” he says, reaching up.  Steve smiles and meets him, letting Tony kiss him until he’s feeling a little safer, and then he wraps an arm around him and leads him back to the jeep.  Bruce is already in the passenger seat, and Steve smiles in thanks as he climbs into the back with Tony.

 

——

 

After several twisting backroads that turn from pavement into dirt, Tony finally starts cracking jokes, “Can’t get there from here, yah-up.”

 

Steve bursts out laughing, looking over at his strange accent.  “What?” he says.

 

“You said I had to try to have fun,” Tony says, looking out the window, “So I’m going to give Barton absolute _shit_ for taking us into the middle of nowhere.  Oh.  Okay, then.  That’s—what the _fuck_ is that building next to the house?”

 

Steve grins widely as he sees the cabin finally coming into view.  “Outhouse,” he says.

 

“Barton!” Tony screams out the window.

 

Clint’s laugh drifts back to them.  “There’s plumbing!” he calls into the wind.

 

“Thank god,” Tony mutters, sinking back into his seat.

 

“You’re such a princess,” Bruce says from the front.

 

“My family invests in mountain lodges, thank you very much,” Tony says, kicking Bruce’s seat.

 

“They’re ridiculous,” Steve says.

 

Thor parks behind Clint’s truck, and they all clamber out, taking in the view.  The cabin is big, stretching across a wide expanse of trees behind it.  They’re surrounded on each side by trees, the road in a narrow stretch of dirt road that they drove carefully over, avoiding the massive rocks in the way.  The lake sits a stone’s throw away, big, blue, and beautiful.  There’s a shed to their immediate right, padlocked, where Steve guesses the guns are kept, a charred pit to the right of the house, surrounded by low stone walls and with a grill nearby, and a hammock strung up to the left, a little hidden in the trees.

 

“Sweet digs, Clint,” Thor says, punching his arm on the way by.

 

“We’ll have to double up on the rooms,” Clint says, “But we’ll all fit.”

 

“I’m bunking with Steve, and the rest of you can suck it,” Tony says immediately.

 

“We know,” several voices chorus.

 

“Thor, Bruce, you’re together,” Clint says, “Because it’s my house, and I’m not sharing with either of you.”

 

“Lame,” Bruce says, feigning tripping Clint, who points a finger at him, but Bruce just smiles.

 

“We’re going to come bother you in the dead of night,” Nat says from Bucky’s back as he passes by, heading for the cabin.

 

“There are locks on the doors, so _use them_ ,” he directs this to Tony, who is flat out refusing to take any of the bags, instead wandering off to look at the lake.

 

“Not much of an exhibitionist, _actually_ ,” Tony says.

 

“Bullshit,” Clint says, “That’s because of Steve.”

 

“And?” Tony says, turning away from the lake, “Does plumbing mean actual water?”

 

“It’s filtered.”

 

Tony points at Steve.  “We’re all going to die.”

 

Steve ignores him.

 

——

 

That night, in celebration of an eight and a half hour drive north without killing each other, Steve, Nat and Bucky cook a feast.  Steve comes out barefoot, in his jeans and plaid sleeves rolled up, starts the grill, and Tony makes an obscene noise, leaning back against Bruce to watch.

 

“Stop that,” Bruce says, shoving him upright, “I am not part of your sex party.”

 

“There will be no—what,” Steve says, looking over at them.

 

“Bruce wants to bone me, he’s just sick of not admitting it.”

 

“In your dreams,” Bruce says, getting up.

 

“It happens in my dreams sometimes!” Tony says, turning to him, “Wanna hear about it?”  Bruce glares at him.

 

While Steve grills chicken and steak, Natasha starts mixing wicked drinks that leave even Tony’s grin a little lopsided, and Bucky gets to work on the pasta and sides.  When they finally call everyone inside, it’s to a spread that leaves Clint gaping, and then he says, “Okay, you three can definitely come on every adventure I ever have.”  They pile food high on plates while Thor gets a fire going, and then they’re all gathering around outside to eat and talk, staying up late into the night until, finally, Nat’s drinks have done their job, and Bucky is nearly asleep against her.

 

“We’re off,” she says, pulling him upright, “See you guys in the morning?”

 

“Bright and early!” Clint exclaims, “We’re taking the canoes out!”

 

“I’m sorry, did you just say canoes?” Tony says, but Steve kisses him, and Clint’s gone before they can argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so absurdly excited to be finally posting this! I say finally like I didn't start writing it last week. Currently, I'm on break with the [space au](http://archiveofourown.org/series/466072) (yes, I did just shamelessly promote my other fic) while we prepare for year two, and I thought it would be fun to post a couple chapters of this in the week before year two of that begins. I'm also absurdly excited because I've never written something like this before. Horror is one of my favorite genres, and though it scares me half to death, I gobble up just about everything I can find. However, there are always these _rules_ that one needs to follow, and I always get yelled at when I try to kill people, but this one, _everyone dies_. It's wonderful. I'm also saying this again just in case no one read the opening notes. Literally everyone. Get ready. It's going to be gruesome and awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint groans as a body drops down on top of him, draped over _all of him_ , and he starts to mumble tiredly about being left the fuck alone when another body collapses on top of him, and the breath is shoved out of him.

 

“Oafs,” he gasps.

 

“I take offense to that,” Natasha says before licking his ear and waiting for Bucky to roll off before she clambers in between them.  “It’s not _that_ early,” Nat says, reaching over for Clint’s arm to lift his wrist and look at his watch, “It’s only eight.”

 

“That’s early,” Clint mumbles, turning onto his side and burying his face in Nat’s ribs, looping an arm around her.  Bucky flicks his hand, and he retreats a little.  “Why are you waking me up?” he asks, “Everything okay?”

 

“I wanted to make a big breakfast for everyone.”

 

“And you couldn’t do that without me?”

 

“Obviously, we were inviting you to join,” Bucky says, pushing up onto an elbow, “Plus, you make amazing eggs.”

 

“Guys,” Clint groans, “It’s literally only paprika.”

 

“That’s a lie, and we both know it,” Bucky says, staring unblinkingly at him, and that’s what makes Clint get up.

 

“Creep,” he mutters before he throws the blankets off and rolls out of bed, heading for the bathroom.  He showers quickly while Nat and Bucky wander off to change, and when he next finds them downstairs in the kitchen, Nat is already in her bikini, a black fringe top with a little red bottom, and Bucky is shirtless, arms curled around her waist as he leans his temple against her shoulder, eyes closed.

 

“How much bacon is the right amount?” Nat asks.

 

“That’s a stupid question,” Clint and Bucky say at the same time.

 

“That’s fair,” Nat says, “Bucky, come on, you’re on bacon duty.  You can attempt to be romantic later.”

 

“Rude,” Bucky says, but he detaches himself and goes to stand next to her, starting to cook bacon on a skillet.  Natasha continues to cut up potatoes for grits while Clint goes to start making eggs.  Eventually, the smell starts to draw the others downstairs, in varying states of dress, until they’re all sitting around the table, yawning.

 

They have a long, large breakfast where everyone starts to wake up when Clint says, “So canoes this morning, and then we can hang out on the island for lunch, I was thinking.”

 

“This is why I bought snacks!” Thor exclaims, “For a picnic!”

 

“Oh, I’ll help pack it,” Steve offers, smiling widely.

 

“Of course you will,” Tony teases, “Eagle Scout.”

 

“Listen, when we’re lost out in the woods in the middle of the night, you’ll be happy I can make a fire with nothing but nature.”

 

“Even if you build a fire, I’ll still be upset about being lost in the woods,” Tony says before he pushes away from the table and taking his dish to the sink.  “I’m only offering this once, and then never again.”

 

“Oh my god,” Bruce says, looking over at him in shock, “Are you—”

 

“Yes, I will do the dishes this morning.”

 

“Today,” Clint corrects, “There are seven of us, so we all get a day.  Shut up, Tony,” he adds when Tony starts to protest, “Barton family rules.”

 

“Lame,” Tony says, but doesn’t complain otherwise.

 

The canoes are large enough to hold three, but Steve and Thor want to race, so Tony convinces Bruce to go with him though it will likely end up being a horrible idea.  Nat kicks back in between Clint and Bucky, who set out first, leading the way to the island.

 

Tony and Bruce make slow headway because Bruce keeps pausing to appreciate the beauty around them while Tony just loathes manual labor and allows Bruce every moment.  Steve and Thor lap them once, and it’s Tony’s turn to pause when they go by, grinning as he watches Steve’s bare, tan skin tighten around each muscle that shifts as his arms soar on either side, propelling him through the water.  He glances Thor’s way, as well, sighing, and then Bruce elbows him and tries to smack him with an oar, so Tony starts paddling again.

 

At some point, they make it to the island.  Steve and Thor race around the circumference of it while the others pull their canoes up to shore, wading through the shallow waters near the edge.  Tony makes Bruce get out, claiming a lifelong fear to lily pads, and though Bruce points out that they’re not this close to the island, he still jumps out, splashing Tony, who glares at him.

 

He waits for Steve to return while Nat tugs Bucky off to find somewhere under the sun to relax, Clint and Bruce following slowly.  When he finally pulls up to the shore, Tony smiles fondly, watching him laugh with Thor as they lift their canoes easily and carry them up far enough.

 

“Hey you,” Steve says brightly when he sees Tony, coming over to hug him tightly, lifting him off his feet even as Tony protests loudly.

 

“I’m not a child,” Tony mutters, stepping away from Steve once he puts him back down.

 

“I beg to differ,” Thor says on his way by.

 

“How was your trip over?” Steve asks even as he leans down to kiss him, Tony letting himself be trapped by Steve’s warmth.

 

When they part, Steve takes his hand as Tony says, “Fine.  It’s just a canoe on a lake.  Nothing crazy.”

 

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, sounding worried, so Tony quickly nods, smiling up at him.

 

“I am,” he says, “I promise.  I just didn’t sleep well.”

 

“You need to stop watching scary movies before you go to sleep,” Steve teases, nudging him, “It doesn’t help.”

 

“I know,” Tony sighs, “I can’t help it.  They’re so good.”

 

“At least watch them earlier, then, so I can be there with you.”

 

Tony just smiles, squeezing his hand.  They spend a few hours on the island, laughing and making up games before they finally settle in to eat.  Around one, Clint claims it’s starting to get late, and when they all look at him strangely, he says, “The sun sets earlier around here.  The mountains are so high nearby that it gets dark pretty quick.  Just want to get back while there’s still good light.”

 

“Good idea,” Tony says, already starting to clean up.

 

Steve watches him with a frown, wondering if Tony’s just trying to be helpful or actually nervous about being out here, and though he wants to think it’s the first, he knows it’s much more likely the latter.

 

They pack up, check to make sure they haven’t left any trash behind, and head off back in the direction of the canoes.  They’ve been walking for a few minutes when Thor says, “Guys?  Is that—shit, is that our canoe out there?”  He points, and Clint frowns as he sees a canoe floating out in the lake.

 

“Where are the others?” Bucky asks, jogging ahead of them.  “What the fuck!” he exclaims a moment later, “They’re all gone!”

 

“That’s weird,” Bruce says, putting a hand to his brow as he looks out at the lake, “There’s one of the other ones.”

 

“The tide must have come in while we were eating,” Nat says, though her expression is off.

 

“I’ll go out for them,” Steve says, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

 

“No,” Tony says immediately, grabbing one of his arms, “Just—” he breaks off, looking over at Thor, who is standing near the shore.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, twisting out of his grip and pulling off his shirt, “Seriously.  No one is out to get us.  We probably didn’t secure them well enough.  Thor!  You coming?”

 

“Yeah, man!” Thor calls, tossing his shirt a few feet away before he takes a running start and jumps into the lake.  Steve follows him, and they begin wading out toward where the two canoes are idling.

 

“Hey, Clint,” Tony says softly, watching them.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Tony waits until Steve is near one of the canoes before he turns to him and asks, “Does anyone live nearby?”

 

“Not for a few miles,” Clint says, “Even then, it’s just other summer houses.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says, though it doesn’t make him feel any better.

 

When Thor finally emerges, yanking the canoe up onto the shore, he says, “We can’t find the other two.”

 

“What the hell,” Clint says, “Guys, those things aren’t cheap.  This isn’t cool.”

 

“Steve got into his,” Thor says, “He’s looking around right now.  I’m sure they’re somewhere.  Anyone wanna head back now?”

 

“We should wait for Steve,” Bucky says, the _just in case_ lingering thickly in the air between them.

 

And so, they wait.  It’s about fifteen minutes before Steve finally comes into sight, another canoe tied to his.  He’s frowning as he approaches, and he gets out carefully, though he doesn’t pull the canoe far up onto the shore.  “This one was almost on the other side,” he says, looking over at Clint, “Is that normal?”

 

“Let’s just get out of here,” Clint says, heading over, “Maybe the other one drifted farther out.  Come on, Nat, Bucky, and I will take that one.”

 

“I’ll go with Thor,” Bruce says, already heading over.

 

“The other side?” Tony asks as he approaches Steve, “Of the island?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says, “It was weird.  I didn’t think we were gone long enough for it to drift that far.”

 

“We weren’t,” Tony says, but Steve doesn’t hear him, too busy putting their things inside.  When he’s finished, he turns, holding out a hand to Tony, who looks out at the lake, his jaw working as he contemplates what the hell could have moved their canoes.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, stepping forward and taking his hand, “It was just a freak thing.  Let’s get back to the cabin.”

 

“Let’s sleep with the lights on,” Tony murmurs, climbing into the canoe.

 

“Pretty sure that would attract the axe murderers,” Steve says, and Tony rolls his eyes, making a face at him.  “There’s my man,” Steve says happily, leaning forward to kiss him before he gets in opposite and picks up one of the paddles.  He pushes away from the shore, and they head back to the cabin.

 

The fourth canoe never shows up.

 

——

 

That night, Steve and Bucky make dinner.  Tony takes his laptop sans wifi to the table, working on some of his homework.  Steve stops by occasionally to drop a kiss on his shoulder or jaw, and Tony smiles every time.

 

It’s not until later that night, when they’re all gathered in the living room, the fire going, that Clint gets up and goes to check the lock on the front door.

 

“Expecting someone?” Nat teases.

 

“Har har,” Clint says, making a face at her, but he continues over to the windows, making sure they’re locked, as well.

 

No one comments on it, but Clint’s unease about the incident with the canoes earlier has left them all feeling strange.  And so, they go to bed early that night, drifting off into their separate rooms.

 

“Are you actually worried that someone moved them?” Natasha asks as she drops onto his bed, watching him move about the room.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, “It was just weird.  I’ve been out to that island a hundred times, and that’s never happened before.  And where did the fourth one go?”

 

The door opens, admitting Bucky, changed into a pair of plaid pants.  He tosses Nat one of his shirts, and sits when she stands to change.  “Maybe some crazy hicks rowed out from the other side of the island and put them out onto the lake in an attempt to strand us,” he says, twisting to pop his spine.

 

“Shut up,” Natasha says, throwing her shorts at him, “Not funny.”

 

“Okay, Tony,” Bucky says, “How many horror movies did you watch before we came up here?”

 

“I’m always watching horror movies,” Nat says.

 

“We really don’t have anyone nearby,” Clint says as he comes out of the bathroom, “It just doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Well,” Natasha says, heading for the door, “Think of it this way.  We’re inside, locked up, and we have guns if need be.”

 

“Do you think I should take one inside the house?” Clint asks as he climbs into bed.

 

“Dude, we’re fine,” Bucky says, “Don’t let one missing canoe freak you out.”

 

Down the hall, Thor crashes onto his bed, moaning happily.  “Man, I was so afraid these beds would be shit,” he admits.

 

“Are you going to sleep soon?” Bruce asks as he takes a change of clothes into the bathroom.

 

“Maybe in a bit,” Thor says, “Why, you staying up?”  


“Just to read a little.”  When Bruce comes back out, he asks, “Are you excited to be out here for a week?”

 

“More than you know,” Thor says, sitting up, “Steve and I once did a camping retreat for Eagle Scouts, and it was amazing.  We’ve been camping a few times since then, but nothing more than a day or two cos of college and other life requirements, so this is just what the doctor ordered.”

 

“Have you been friends long?” Bruce asks, pulling back the blankets on his bed.

 

“Since elementary school,” Thor says, “If I didn’t have a brother, he’d be my best man someday.”

 

“That’s nice,” Bruce says, smiling, “That’s how it is with Tony.  I’m always so grateful to have someone like that in my life.”

 

“Hear, hear!” Thor cheers before he disappears into the bathroom.

 

In the last room, Tony changes quickly and gets into bed while Steve is brushing his teeth.  He tucks up with his laptop, writing code for a new program, until Steve climbs in next to him, plucking it out of his hands and kissing him instead.

 

“Feeling better?” he asks when they part.

 

“I mean, someone stole one of our canoes and probably was waiting to try to kill us because we wouldn’t have been able to get back to the cabin.”

 

“It wasn’t that far away,” Steve says, pulling Tony toward him, “We could have swum back.”

 

“Through the lily pads,” Tony points out, and Steve laughs, burying it in Tony’s neck.

 

“Yes, through the treacherous lily pads,” Steve says before he lays a wet trail up Tony’s neck, over his jaw, and around the shell of his ear.  “Did you ever watch _Cabin in the Woods_?”

 

“Stupid ass movie for the second half, but the first half was decent enough.”

 

“What about the _Cabin Fever_ remake?” Steve teases.

 

“Clint said the water was fine, _shut up_.”

 

“ _The Strangers_?”

 

“Okay, fuck you,” Tony says, though he’s edging close to a laugh when he pushes Steve away, “That movie gives me fucking nightmares.”

 

“It’s pretty scary,” Steve says, “But that was in an almost populated area, so I think we’re safe.”

 

“Safe,” Tony scoffs, “Out here in the middle of nowhere with no service.”

 

“So quiet,” Steve says, his voice dropping low as he nudges Tony onto his back and starts mouthing down his front, “No one would hear you scream.”

 

“If you think murder is appropriate bedroom talk, we might need to have a different kind of conversation,” Tony says, and then Steve’s shutting him up.

 

——

 

Thor wakes half the cabin in the morning with a loud cheer, and Tony groans as he rolls over, hand flapping across the bed until he comes in contact with Steve.  “Mere,” Tony mumbles, pulling at him.

 

Steve shifts closer to him, stretching his arms up before he winds them around Tony, squeezing him briefly.  “Morning,” Steve murmurs, pressing a sleepy kiss to his temple, “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Like an Other,” Tony says, words muffled by Steve’s ribs.

 

“Aw, we’re going to miss the new episode,” Steve says.

 

Tony pushes upright, one hand pressed against Steve’s sternum.  “It’s the battle of the bastards!” he exclaims, “I am _dying_ to know who dies!”

 

Steve laughs, reaching up to pull Tony back down against him.  He kisses him slowly, softly, letting them get lost in one another until Thor starts cheering again.  “Come on,” Steve says, dropping back onto the bed, “Let’s go find out what he’s so excited about.”

 

“It better be pancakes,” Tony says before he yawns and gets up.  They shower together, lingering touches that leave them hungry for some time alone, and then they’re heading downstairs.

 

As they enter the kitchen, Nat starts yelling, “Ha, beat that!  Perfect circle!”

 

“I challenge thee!”

 

Thor whips an oven mitt at the ground, and Nat bursts out laughing, leaning into him.  “You’re ridiculous,” she says as Thor lifts a fist in the air.

 

Bucky is already at the table, eating French toast, which Tony makes enough noise about that Nat agrees to make him some.  They tuck in to pancakes while Thor keeps cooking, and their morning turns into a long, loud affair.

 

When they’ve finally finished up, and Thor offers to do the dishes for the day, they start making plans.  “I vote we don’t go back out to the island,” Tony says, and though Steve looks over at him, he doesn’t find anything that breathes fear in Tony’s expression.

 

“I vote for a chill day,” Natasha says, handing her plate over to Thor with a smile.

 

“Oh, let’s go hiking,” Bucky says, turning to her.

 

“Don’t even,” Tony says as soon as Steve brightens, “I’m not tramping around in the woods.”

 

“You can come with us,” Bucky says, “It’ll be fun.  Anyone else want to come?”

 

“I haven’t even agreed yet,” Natasha says, narrowing her eyes at him.

 

“You’ll have fun, you’re coming,” Bucky says, patting her hand before he stands, “Clint?”

 

“Nah, I think I’m gonna hang back at the lake.”

 

“Even teams!” Thor roars, “Let’s play badminton.”

 

“I don’t—how do you know we have a net?” Clint asks, looking over at him in surprise.

 

“We raided the shed last night,” Natasha says, “When you were off getting firewood.  We wanted to see if the gun story was true.”

 

“And?”

 

“That’s a hefty collection,” Bucky says, nodding, “Spotted a sniper rifle in there.”

 

“Listen, just because you two recreationally shoot guns doesn’t mean you’re allowed to shoot them here,” Clint says, “Don’t give me reason to change the code on the door.”

 

“Yes, Clint,” Nat and Bucky sigh together.

 

And so, it’s decided.  Bruce convinces Tony to help him set up the badminton net while Steve, Nat, and Bucky go upstairs to change into appropriate clothing.  Clint stays behind with Thor, chatting with him while Thor cleans.

 

Once the net’s set up, Tony goes off in search of a pair of shorts, promptly putting everyone to shame when he returns in a pair of tight-fitting _things_ that Bucky laughs loudly at him for.  “With an ass like that,” he says, jostling Steve, “I understand.”

 

“Right,” Tony says, lifting his shirt and turning.

 

“Honestly,” Steve says, shaking his head before he comes over, twisting Tony’s shirt out of his hands before he leans down to kiss him.  “Have fun, don’t die,” he says.

 

“Gee, thanks, Steve, I’ll do my best,” Tony sneers, reaching up to flick his ear, “Try to avoid any scary forest fiends that look like they want to dismember you.”

 

Steve laughs softly, pulling Tony closer and kissing him all for show until Thor whistles, and then he leaves a dazed Tony to smile stupidly at Bruce when Steve walks away.

 

“Oh no!” Bruce yells when Clint sidles up to Thor, “Unfair teams.  One of you gets him.”

 

“I take offense to that!” Tony says, glaring at him, “I’m an excellent—ah!” he breaks off in a shout when the birdie goes flying into the air.  He dives for it, delivering a wicked blow back Thor’s way, and thus begins their game.

 

Clint proves to be the weak link, too distracted by the lake, and so eventually they break under the high sun to change and take turns running off the dock into the lake.  Tony isn’t particularly fond of this ritual, and so after the first time, when his foot touches mossy rock, he quickly makes for the shore, going to join Bruce on the sand, dropping onto the towel next to him.  Bruce hands over a book, one of Tony’s favorites, and he hums in appreciation, tucking up against Bruce after he’s turned over onto his front.  They sunbathe that way, reading and relaxing, until Thor comes dripping over them and demands they continue playing.  Bruce pouts up at him, but Tony clambers to his feet and races Thor over to the net.

 

Clint grabs a floaty from the shed, and though Bruce is tempted, he stays on the towel, soaking in the sun.  Clint drifts out onto the lake, eyes closed and head tipped back, his feet skimming the water.  In the background, Tony and Thor’s shouts echo back to them, and it proves to be a fantastic day.

 

As lunch is approaching, Bruce gets up, stretching, and lets Thor and Tony, who are currently sparring, know that he’s going to make sandwiches and bring them back out.  Tony calls out his order before Thor tackles him, and then he’s giggling when Thor hits a ticklish spot before he twists out from under him.

 

When Bruce emerges fifteen minutes later, it’s to Tony shrieking as Thor heaves him over one shoulder and marches toward the lake.

 

“You heathen!” Tony yelps, punching him in the back, “Bruce, help!  This wildling is carrying me off into the— _Thor_!”  And then Tony goes sailing through the air, crashing loudly into the lake.  Thor dives in after him, laughing when he surfaces and Tony is whining about a lily pad around his leg.

 

“Stop flailing,” Thor says, coming over, “Hang on.”

 

He loops one arm around Tony, who holds onto him as he extracts him from the lily pad, and then Tony pushes upright, dunking Thor under before he starts swimming back toward the shore.

 

“Idgit,” Thor says when he comes back up.

 

“Clint!” Bruce calls, “Food!”

 

“Food!” Clint yells in response before he rolls off of the floaty and then swims back, dragging it behind him.

 

They eat lunch on Bruce’s towel, chatting amicably until Thor says, “Alright, Stark.  What’s your issue with the lake?”

 

“It’s fucking creepy,” Tony says immediately, “There are _living things_ in it, which I know the ocean also has, but sharks are far away, and lake fish are very immediate.  Also, someone stole our canoe.”

 

“It’s somewhere,” Clint says, “It just—I don’t know.”

 

“Exactly,” Tony says, pointing at him, “Fucking creepy.”

 

“I think you should give it a second chance,” Thor says, “Let’s go out for a lap around this section of the lake.

 

“I’m down for that,” Bruce says, nodding as he looks over at Tony, “We won’t even get out of them.”

 

“You can come with me,” Thor says, “I have—large shoulders like Steve.”

 

“That’s definitely one of your selling points,” Tony says.  He chews on his lip as Clint discusses with Thor the kind of path they could take, and then heaves a sigh and says, “Okay, fine, but only if I can go with Thor.”

 

“Absolutely,” Bruce says, already getting up.

 

They clean up, find shirts and sunscreen, which Bruce demands is necessary, and then Tony walks out in a floppy sunhat, and they all laugh at him.  “I’m fabulous,” he says, tipping his sunhat before he heads for the canoes.

 

They split up, barefoot and already sun kissed, Tony getting in while Thor pulls the canoe out onto the water, quickly climbing in so Tony doesn’t get antsy about it moving.  Meanwhile, Clint tries to tip Bruce over, and Bruce just threatens murder by axe.

 

“Axe murderers are actually super unlikely,” Tony says, “He’d be statistically more likely to be killed by a—machete,” he decides on, “Easier to handle.”

 

“And you’ve handled a machete?” Thor asks, lifting the paddle.  Tony moves to grab the other one, but Thor says, “You’ll just put us in circles, I’ve got this.”

 

“Fine by me,” Tony says, kicking his feet up on the small wooden plank between them and leaning back, resting comfortably against the back of the canoe, arms bridged under his head.

 

He closes his eyes and lets the world drift by, the only sound Thor’s soft breaths and easy strokes in and out of the water.  It’s a pleasant experience, just floating along, and he’s starting to doze when Thor says, “Hey, look at that.”

 

Tony blinks as he sits up, looking to where Thor is pointing.  It’s a fucking canoe.

 

“Shit,” Tony says, just staring at it, “Is that ours?”

 

“Guys!” Clint starts yelling, quickly coming up on their right, “Fucking look at that!”

 

“Come on!” Thor says, already paddling again.  They reach it quickly, and Tony leans over, grabbing hold of it.

 

“Shit,” Clint says as Tony tips it, showing the side off to Clint, where the Barton name is carved, “That’s—”

 

“Bizarre,” Tony supplies, “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

 

Clint just nods in agreement before he reaches back between him and Bruce, plucking up the rope.  “Here,” he says, tossing it toward them.  Tony catches it with his free hand as Clint asks, “Can you tie it to mine?”

 

Tony sets to work on a knot, which Thor nods approvingly at, and then he sets about turning them, bringing them back around to go home.  “Where’s the cabin?” Tony asks, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

 

“Back there somewhere,” Thor says, “We went out a little farther than planned.”

 

“Okay,” Tony says uneasily, and though sees Thor’s shoulders shift, like he wants to say something, he doesn’t, and instead starts paddling.  It’s a silent trip until the cabin finally comes into view, though, when it does, Clint is looking worriedly up at the sky.

 

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he says, and that’s when Tony notices just how far away the cabin is, just a tiny speck against a backdrop of trees.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Thor says reassuringly, and Tony decides to just believe him, though he doesn’t relax back into the canoe.

 

“Do you want me to row?” he asks.

 

“I’m faster without you,” Thor says, flashing a smile back at him.

 

“But probably going to be tired soon.”

 

Thor pauses in his paddling to flex an arm at Tony, and it finally does the track, pulling a laugh out of Tony.

 

Slowly, but steadily, they make their way back toward the cabin.  As the sun begins a true descent in the sky, Tony tries to gauge their distance again and frowns.  Someone is standing at the shore, waving furiously in their direction.

 

“Is that—Steve?” Tony says, leaning forward.

 

“Yeah,” Thor says, “And there’s Nat,” he adds when someone else comes running out of the house, “Hang on.”  He lifts the paddle out of the water, lying it across his lap, and cups his hands around his mouth before shouting, “Steve!”

 

Steve’s voice is a thin echo in response, “Bucky’s missing!”

 

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and then Thor says, “ _Fuck_ ,” before he starts paddling in earnest.

 

Behind them, Clint and Bruce work harder, trying to keep pace with them, but they still fall behind until Tony taps at Thor’s back, watching them.  “Thor, slow down a little.  I don’t want to leave them behind.”

 

Thor makes a frustrated noise, but slows his strokes until Clint and Bruce are starting to catch up a little.  When Tony next looks toward the cabin, he thinks they probably only have a few minutes left, and he’s just casting his gaze out to look for Steve when Nat’s voice cuts to the bone, “ _Bucky_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What! What is happening! What is happening is that I'm cackling at work while posting this. I hope you enjoyed, and get ready for the upcoming bloodbath. Don't forget to leave your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

Steve lingers as they reach the edge of the wood, watching Tony shout and swing wildly, bouncing up into the air when Thor has to run to get his racket under the birdie.  He smiles before plunging in after Nat and Bucky, walking behind them until the trail starts to get smaller, and Nat lets Bucky lead.

 

“Steve, you remember that camping trip we went on, right before your intensive for Eagle Scouts?”  


“Oh man, we definitely almost got eaten by a bear,” Steve laughs, “It was kind of terrifying.”

 

“I’ve never heard this story,” Natasha says, glancing back at him.

 

“This idiot,” Steve says, gesturing forward, “starts drawing a fucking circle in the ground.”

 

“Bucky!” Nat exclaims, punching the back of his shoulder, “Just because SpongeBob does it!”

 

Bucky starts laughing loudly, shoulders shaking as he thinks back on that time.  “We left some food out on accident,” he says, “And the next morning, it looked like we had been ransacked.”

 

“And then, the second night, something was definitely in our camp.  We only stayed another night after that,” Steve says, “But we had a ton of fun.”

 

“Learned how to gut a fish, which was interesting.”

 

“You didn’t even touch it,” Steve says.

 

“It was fucking gross!” Bucky exclaims, “You literally pulled out its innards!”

 

“Hey, you said you wanted the full experience.”

 

“Yeah, so this asshole only brings enough food for one meal a day, makes us hunt the rest.  Rabbit is pretty chewy,” Bucky says.

 

“I’ve had rabbit,” Natasha admits, “Snake, too.”

 

Bucky turns, walking backward as he looks at her.  “Have you gone camping?” he asks.

 

“Turn around before you trip and break an ankle,” Natasha orders, “And yes.  I used to go camping all the time with my dad.”

 

“And shoot guns?” Steve asks, “You’re pretty badass.”

 

“Well, _duh_ ,” Nat says, “But, while we’re on the subject of guns, I think we should bring one inside from the shed.”

 

“You, too?” Steve says, shaking his head, “It was a fluke.”

 

“The canoes disappearing was not a fluke,” Bucky says, “Someone was trying to mess with us, and it wasn’t anyone sleeping in that cabin.  We were all together.”

 

“Thor and Clint both went off to pee in the woods,” Natasha points out.

 

“And were back in a reasonable time,” Bucky says, “I seriously think it was someone else.  None of that tide bullshit, either,” he adds when Steve starts to speak, “I know you were just trying to come up with an excuse, Nat, but the tide?  We’re at the fucking lake, there’s no tide.”

 

“Technically not true,” Natasha says.

 

Bucky just keeps going, “Not enough to move the canoes, at least.  I think it’s only smart to bring one of the guns inside, just in case.  You never know what might happen.”

 

“Jesus, did you all watch scary movies before we came up?” Steve says.

 

“Nat was very adamant we scare the shit out of ourselves for three weeks straight, it was delightful.”

 

“Not a fan of horror movies?”

 

“Not at all,” Bucky says, “You know this.  Remember that time you tried to get me to go to _The Purge_?”

 

“That’s not even scary!” Natasha says, throwing up her hands.

 

“I beg to differ,” Bucky says, “It gave me nightmares.  I didn’t go outside after dusk for a week.”

 

“Wimp,” Nat mutters darkly.  Bucky spins and drops suddenly, catching Natasha around the middle and lifting her into the air.  “Not happening!” she yells, swinging around to kick him, but Bucky just gets his hands around her and tosses her above him, laughing when she shrieks.  He catches her, dropping her to the ground and kissing her before she can yell at him.  Steve smiles when she softens under his touch, letting him hold her.

 

“Downfall of staying in the _Barton family cabin_ ,” Natasha says when they start walking again, “I feel so dirty trying to have sex.”

 

“His sisters sleep in those beds,” Bucky says.

 

“Oh, I didn’t even think of that,” Steve says, frowning.

 

“Seriously?  You and Tony already banged?”

 

“A little,” Steve admits, “He’s very addicting.”

 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Natasha says, “He drives me nuts.”

 

“He’s pretty amazing,” Steve says, “He’s incredibly intelligent, and we have awesome conversations because of that.”

 

“Really?  Conversations?  Give me a break.”

 

Steve frowns at her back.  “It’s not just about the sex,” he says, “Tony is one of my best friends, and he was long before we started dating.”

 

“That’s good,” Bucky says, tossing a glare at Natasha over his shoulder, “That always makes for a better relationship.”

 

They fall silent for a bit, just walking, until Natasha suddenly shouts and runs off of the path.  “Oh cool,” Bucky says when he sees where she’s going, “A little stretch of beach.  Wanna go?”

 

“I’m actually gonna keep walking for a bit,” Steve says, and then adds at Bucky’s expression, “I promise I won’t go far.”

 

“Better not,” Bucky says, reaching over to knock his fist against Steve’s shoulder, “I’d be out here all night looking for you if you disappeared, man.  Don’t get lost.  _Please_.”

 

“I’ll be safe, I promise,” Steve says, smiling reassuringly before he heads off.

 

He walks longer than he probably should, just enjoying the silence that settles over him.  He can hear Bucky and Nat laughing and jumping into the water, and so he keeps them within earshot until he sees a little clearing through the trees, and he heads off in that direction.

 

When he comes out, the sun is high and warm, and he sighs, closing his eyes as he opens his arms and basks in it.  After a moment, Steve heads deeper into the clearing where a large rock is sitting, and he climbs up onto it, getting comfortable before he shrugs out of his backpack.  He eats one of the nut bars he brought, sips from his water, and then takes out his sketchbook, opening it up to a blank page.

 

He can’t stop thinking about Tony’s smile on the island yesterday, and so he draws that from memory.  Steve’s drawn him enough times that his physical features come easily, but he fleshes out the environment first.  He and Thor had been showing off their handstands, and he’d just nailed five pushups while upside down and nearly toppled over in his excitement.  When he’d finally landed on his feet, beaming, Steve had just been in awe of him, the sun dancing across his eyes and his hair wild from the wind.

 

Steve sketches the rocks beneath him, the lake lapping up against the shore behind him, and the little moments of grass scattered around.  When he starts drawing Tony, he can’t help but smile, trying to get the angle of his shadows just right with the sun.

 

He’s just finishing off the last tuft of hair when he hears it, an indecipherable shout.  Steve frowns, looking up from his drawing and waiting.  It comes again, and though he can hear the shape of a word, he can’t make out what it is.  When it comes a third time, he starts to pack up, quickly stowing away his sketchbook and pencil before he gathers up his trash and closes his backpack.

 

As he comes out of the clearing, Nat’s voice is clear, “Bucky!  Steve!”

 

“Natasha!” he yells back, hurrying away from the clearing and jogging through the trees, “Nat!”

 

“Steve!” she shouts, “Where are you?”

 

“Keep yelling, I’ll come to you!”

 

“I don’t know where Bucky is!”

 

Steve frowns.  “Did you separate?”

 

“He was just going to the bathroom!  I could still see him, but I heard a noise, and I turned, and when I looked back again, he was gone!”

 

“He can’t be far!” Steve calls as he finally spots Nat’s curly red hair.  “Hey,” he says when he reaches her, “It’s okay.  I’m sure he’s nearby.”

 

“I’ve looked all around where we were,” Natasha says, “I can’t find him.”

 

“Come on, let’s look again.”

 

They spend the next hour searching, calling out for Bucky and getting no response until Steve is starting to worry that something’s happened to him.  They search in a two-mile radius, Steve guiding them, until he finally stops and says, “Nat, we should go back to the cabin and get help.  It’s going to get dark soon.”

 

“We can’t leave him out here!” she exclaims, her voice getting hysterical at the end.

 

She stares at him as though he’s asked something terrible of her, and Steve steps forward, carefully touching her shoulders.  “We’re going to find him,” Steve says, “But I think we’d find him faster if we had more people.”  Natasha twists away from him, folding her arms across her chest as she bites her lip, and Steve recognizes her fighting not to cry, which is a little shocking in itself.  “Maybe Clint has a Sat phone,” Steve says, “And we can call for help.”

 

This seems to appease Natasha because she finally nods and says, “Do you have any water?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, hurrying to get out of his backpack and open it up.  He hands her over a water, and she starts walking as soon as she gets the bottle.

 

Steve sighs but follows her, and they make their way quickly back toward the cabin.  They get lost once, and Natasha starts to panic, so Steve pulls a compass out of his pocket, tells her to stop, and leads them back onto the trail.

 

When they finally emerge onto Clint’s property, Natasha sprints toward the cabin as Steve walks out toward the net, looking around in confusion.  He finally spots them on the lake and immediately starts waving his arms until he hears, “Steve!”

 

“Bucky’s missing!” he shouts back.

 

He watches Thor pause before he starts paddling quickly before Natasha comes running out of the house with the Sat phone in hand.  “This thing is fucking ancient,” she growls, trying to get it to work.

 

There’s a loud crack to their right, and they both turn to look, watching in absolute horror as a body comes stumbling out.  “Bucky?” Steve says uncertainly.

 

The body crashes to its knees, lifts its head, and that’s when they notice that the left arm is missing.

 

“ _Bucky_!” Nat screams.

 

She starts running, and Steve swears when the Sat phone goes flying and bounces off the ground.  He checks to make sure it isn’t broken and then runs after her.  “Holy shit,” Steve says when they get to him, “Nat, move.”  He quickly loops Bucky’s right arm over his shoulders, tucks his arm around his waist, and slowly gets him to his feet.  “You’re going to be okay,” Steve says, taking most of his weight, “We’re going to get help.”

 

“What happened to you?” Natasha asks even as she yanks her shirt over her head and balls it up, pressing it to his bleeding, amputated arm.  Steve tries not to look at it, this stump with bits of flesh still hanging from it and _bone_ just staring out from the middle, but it’s hard not to look at.

 

They finally get over to the cabin, and they set Bucky down in one of the chairs on the porch.  “I’ll go get a first aid kit,” Steve says, running for the front door.

 

“Did something attack you?  Clint said that there were wolves in these woods.”

 

Bucky shakes his head slowly, groaning.  “Nat,” he whispers.

 

“What?” she says, kneeling, “What’s wrong?”

 

Steve comes crashing back out of the cabin and takes over.  He hands Natasha her shirt and starts pressing gauze against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.  In seconds, his hands are covered, pieces of Bucky catching under his nails, and he swallows back bile, focusing on the task before him.

 

“Holy fuck!” comes Tony’s voice a second later.

 

“Tony!” Steve calls over his shoulder, “Bring the jeep closer!”

 

Tony sprints past him and then again after he’s gotten the keys, and he listens to his bare feet slap against the ground before the jeep door creaks open.

 

“Thor!”

 

“Nat, get back,” Thor says, pulling her upright and easing her away before he kneels in her place.  “Tell me what to do,” Thor says, looking at Steve until he meets his gaze, and Thor immediately inhales audibly, exhales, and then does it again, waiting for Steve to do it with him before Steve finally feels a little more secure.

 

And then, he says, “Fire.”

 

“Shit,” Bucky moans, head dropping back.

 

“Dude, I have to stop this from bleeding anymore,” Steve says as Thor jumps to his feet and heads into the cabin, “The nearest hospital is over an hour away.  You’ll bleed out before we can get you there.”

 

“Nat,” Bucky mumbles.

 

She hurries over at the sound of her name, taking his good hand.  “Bucky, I’m here,” she whispers, “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Shut the _fuck up_!” Clint starts yelling just before something slams shut on the jeep.

 

“Tony, check the truck,” Bruce says, and Steve looks over his shoulder, frowning when he sees Tony running toward the truck, his expression one of fury.

 

“Alright,” Thor says as he comes back out, “The best I could do was a blowtorch.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky says, twining his fingers with Nat’s.

 

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks, looking up at him.

 

“I’ll burn, you hold?”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says, already getting up.  “Hey,” he says, waiting for Bucky to look at him, “Ready?”

 

Bucky nods, and so Steve carefully sits on top of him, thighs squeezing in against his, forearms pressing against the front of his shoulders, and hands curling around his jaw.  Steve closes his eyes when Bucky starts screaming.

 

“Then what the fuck happened to the cars?” he hears Tony shout during a small interval of silence.

 

It feels like a week with no sleep has passed before they finally finish.  Bucky is sobbing, the color drained from his face, when Thor finally steps back and Steve climbs off of him carefully.  “Do we have any—oranges?” Steve asks, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his hands shaking.

 

“Anything else?” Thor asks.

 

Steve takes a deep breath.  “Bananas,” he says finally, “Water.”

 

“On it,” Thor says, and then he’s gone.

 

“Come on,” Steve says, opening his eyes to look at Nat, “Let’s get him to the car.”

 

They get Bucky upright, and somehow, he remains conscious, staggering against Steve as he tries to walk.  “What’s wrong?” Steve asks as soon as he sees the hood of the jeep open and Tony’s legs poking out from under the car.

 

“Both cars have been fucked with,” Clint says, shaking his head in disbelief, “What the fuck is going on?”

 

Steve opens his mouth to speak, and then he can’t hear.  It sounds like a bomb has gone off, and he hits the ground from Bucky’s sheer weight, suddenly rocketing backward, but he can’t really feel any of it.  His head feels like it’s been stuffed full of gauze, and he blinks as his vision goes black and then comes back blurry.

 

Steve rolls over, trying to push upright, but it feels like there are bricks weighing him down, lining his back.  He doesn’t know why he can’t hear, but there’s a sudden ringing in his ears that starts to make him think that something awful has happened.

 

Sounds rushes in.  Steve can hear Nat’s scream like a thin whistle, but it’s there, and he shakes his head, one quick jerk.  He needs to help.

 

“Tony, _get down_!” Clint’s voice comes through clear.

 

“Steve!”

 

“Bruce, hold her!”

 

Natasha keeps screaming.

 

Steve finally gets his hands under him, shakes the bricks off, and looks over.  Bucky’s hair is matted with blood and something that looks suspiciously like brain matter, grey and oozing.  There’s a gaping hole in his face where there was once a smile, and Steve doesn’t understand.

 

He thinks about Bucky telling him not to get lost, about him wondering if they should bring a gun inside, about—“Bucky?”

 

“We have to get inside!” Clint is yelling.

 

Steve reaches over, grabbing his good arm and shaking.  “Bucky,” he says again, and then, finally, it sinks in.  His smile is gone because a bullet replaced it.

 

Steve flattens to the ground, staring at Bucky’s ruined face.  “What happened?” he yells.

 

“Oh, thank god,” he hears Tony.

 

“Someone just fucking—shot him in the face,” Thor says from the deck, “We have to figure out how to get inside without getting hurt.”

 

“Clint, stop, I’m not going to go over to him,” Tony says, “I’m getting a rock.”

 

“That’s a small boulder,” Clint accuses.

 

Tony hurls the rock away from the rocks, and nothing happens.

 

“I think we should just wait,” Bruce says, and that’s when Steve notices Natasha is quiet.  Any one of them could have been shot, and yet it was Bucky, who had already been maimed.  Steve stands up.

 

“What the fuck are you doing!” Tony shouts, grabbing onto Clint’s arm.

 

Steve holds out his arms.  “Whoever just did that is trying to scare us,” he says, “They targeted Bucky specifically.  Nat and I were on either side of him.  We need to get inside.”

 

“We need to get a gun,” Clint says, staring at him.

 

“Not yet.”  Steve is starting to feel anxious, like it might not matter, them choosing Bucky, if he just keeps standing here.  “Come on.”

 

He turns away, hurrying toward the porch and up the front steps.  Thor is already inside, holding the door open.  Bruce pulls Natasha past Bucky, promising her they’ll come back out to take care of him when it’s safe, and then Clint’s running over with Tony in front of him.  When they’re finally inside, Tony crashes against Steve, clinging to him.  “Don’t ever do that again,” he gasps as Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck, fingers digging into him as he holds on.

 

——

 

Steve tries to take control of the situation.  He makes a valiant effort, bringing Nat something to drink and making sure Clint is okay to stay with her for now.  He checks on everyone else, and he gets halfway when Thor comes over, fingers curling tightly around his upper arm, and steers him out of the living room and into the bathroom on the first floor.

 

“Sit down,” he says, leading Steve to the toilet.  Steve hits the closed lid with a thud, letting out a hard exhale.  “You need to take a second,” Thor says, wetting a hand towel before he starts dabbing at the side of Steve’s head, who winces but doesn’t move.  “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, but his hands are still shaking.

 

“Dude,” Thor says, “It’s okay not to be.  I’m fucking not, but you were right next to him when it happened.  I saw the way you looked at him.”

 

“I didn’t think it was real,” Steve admits, closing his eyes when Thor presses a little too hard against his ear, which is still ringing, though it’s softer now.

 

“Shit, man,” Thor says, finally stepping away, “None of us can believe it.  Wash your hands.”  Steve obeys, standing up as Thor turns on the faucet and leans his shoulder against the medicine cabinet, watching Steve.  “What now?” he finally asks.

 

Steve shakes his head.  “We have to get one of the cars running.  We have to get out of here.”

 

“You know who that needs to be,” Thor says.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Steve says immediately.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Steve looks over at him, nodding.  “I know him,” he says, “He’s okay.  This, somehow, he can deal with.”

 

“Man, I don’t even wanna know what that implies,” Thor says, handing Steve over a new towel for his hands, “You should probably take a shower.”

 

“Later,” Steve says, “We have work to do.”

 

——

 

Steve gathers everyone in the living room and lays everything on the table.  By the time he’s finished speaking, Nat is wiping her face, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle Tony brought out, and saying, “I’ll take care of Bucky.”

 

“I’ll help you,” Thor says.

 

Steve nods, and waits.

 

“Obviously, I’ve got the car,” Tony says, “Can you keep watch?”

 

“Absolutely,” Steve says, “Do we want to wait until morning to get a gun?”

 

“Not a fucking chance,” Clint says, “But someone needs to stay here, to guard the house.  We can’t leave it empty, not even locked.  We need someone to stay behind to make sure no one gets in.”

 

“I would offer to do that, but I’m not particularly adept at fighting,” Bruce says, “I can help with Bucky, though.”

 

“Okay,” Thor says, “I’ll stay here, then, unless you want to, Clint.”

 

“No, I’ll get a gun.  Or six.”

 

And so, they split up.

 

Clint walks the inside perimeter with Thor, checking the locks on all the windows while Steve stands at the window by the door, watching, until he feels a little okay.  He steps out first, immediately moving behind one of the poles on the deck, but nothing happens, and so he inches out onto the steps.  When the silence of the night remains, he motions for the others to follow.

 

Nat sucks in an awful sounding breath when she sees Bucky, but Bruce just squeezes her hand, and they get to work.  Steve keeps hold of Tony’s hand as he walks toward the cars, making sure to keep Tony hidden behind him.

 

“Okay,” Steve whispers, releasing him.  He stands guard with a knife from the kitchen, exhaling when he hears Tony drop to the ground, scooting under the car with a flashlight between his teeth.

 

The night passes.

 

Bruce and Natasha roll Bucky up in some tarp before they start cleaning the stairs, and Steve keeps watch over all of them, occasionally stepping to the other side of the cars.  When he hears a low whistle, he does his best to check for any danger before he returns the whistle, and Clint comes out of the cabin, moving quickly and keeping low.  Steve looks back toward the cabin, nodding to himself when he sees Thor’s figure pacing around the windows, circling the inside of the cabin.

 

“Jesus,” Tony’s voice floats up suddenly, sharp against the quiet even though he’s whispering.

 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, crouching.

 

“They really fucked up this engine.  I can’t—I can’t do this at night,” he says finally, pushing out from under the car, “I need to see better.  I need to scavenge for parts, possibly.  I’m going to look at the truck.”

 

He gets up, using Steve to push upright, and Steve follows, casting a glance toward Clint, who is halfway toward the shed.  He turns back, following Tony, and a shot ricochets through the dark.

 

Steve grabs Tony and throws them to the ground, rolling until they’re beneath the truck, clapping a hand over his mouth as he shouts.  Silence reigns, and then, without warning, someone laughs, loud and clear and terrible.

 

“Stay here,” Steve whispers, inching off of Tony so he can look over toward Clint.  Relief surges through him when he sees Clint’s arm move, sliding along his side before it twists, lifting a thumb in the air.  He’s on his stomach, but otherwise he looks unharmed.  Steve looks over to the cabin, finds no shadow in the windows, but he imagines Thor is just beside the door, ready to come tearing out if need be.

 

He doesn’t know where Nat and Bruce went, and can’t find them in the dark, and so he looks back to Clint, swearing softly when he sees him moving, army crawling toward the shed.  Something shifts next to him, and Steve jerks, swinging his knife up and just barely missing Tony wiggling his way up toward the front of the truck.  Steve swears again before carefully getting out from under the truck, sitting against it.

 

Steve watches Clint’s progress, trying to keep his breaths even the closer he gets, and then another shot shatters, and Steve’s knuckles go white around the knife.  He watches it hit the ground near Clint, watches Clint cover his head with his arms, and then he does the unthinkable.  He gets up and runs.

 

Steve jumps to his feet, not thinking, even as Thor yells, his voice thunder in the silence, “Don’t run in a straight line!”

 

Clint starts zigzagging, sprinting, and a bullet crashes against the ground a moment after he darts away from it.  “Fucking _shit_ ,” Steve says when Clint bangs into the shed door, fingers fumbling against the lock.  He holds his breath until Clint is inside, and then he says, “Tony, come on.”

 

Tony appears, grabbing onto Steve’s leg as he hauls himself out from underneath the truck.  “It’s just as bad,” he says, getting up and dusting off his pants, “I’ll have to—” he breaks off as Natasha comes barreling across the front of the cabin, running at full tilt until she careens to a halt, nearly crashing into them.

 

“They have Bruce,” she says, grabbing Steve’s arm, “Let’s go.”

 

“What?” Tony says, gaping at her.

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

 

“They have Bruce,” she repeats, “We went around the side of the cabin to look for a shovel, _anything_ that we could use as a weapon, just quickly, and someone grabbed him.  They fucking cut me,” she says, twisting to show her side, where her shirt has been ripped open and she’s bleeding from a shallow cut, “But I think I broke one of their arms.  Fucking fight me, I’ll kill you,” she growls, “Come _on_.  We have to help him.”

 

Steve knows it’s a bad idea, but he nods and lets her lead the way.  Tony follows behind them, and really, it should say something that they make it back across the cabin with no trouble.  As they round the corner, Steve stops them, saying, “Someone should go help Clint.”

 

“You go,” Tony says, already pushing him away, “I’ve got this.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“How many times have I beat you in a fight?  _Go_.”

 

Steve steps forward, pulling Tony toward him and kissing him hard before he turns and starts making his way carefully over to the shed.

 

“Where were you?” Tony whispers before he reaches forward, tearing off the bottom half of Nat’s shirt.

 

“What the fuck,” she says, jerking away, but Tony puts a finger to his lips, pulling her back so he can finish tearing.  He ties one end of it to one of the belt loops on her shorts and the other around the band of his watch.  Nat offers him a surprised smile, and then quickly turns away, leading him off into the darkness.

 

They make it successfully around the cabin three times when it finally occurs to Tony that they’re being played with.  He takes Nat’s elbow in his hands and swallows past the rising bile in his throat before he says, “We’re not going to find him.  They don’t want us to.  They’re fucking taunting us.”

 

“I know,” Nat says, “But how can we just leave him out here?”

 

“We’ll look in the morning when we can see better.  They want us out here at night, separated, unable to defend ourselves properly.  We need—”

 

“Help!”

 

“That’s Clint,” Tony says, turning.

 

Natasha follows him, keeping pace with him until they come around to the front of the cabin, and then she swears, reaching back to yank the knot undone on her shorts so she can run freely over to Clint and Steve.  Tony can’t tell who is being supported until they get closer to the cabin, and then it’s all he can do not to grab the gun hanging from Steve’s pale fingers and start shooting.

 

They get them inside, bringing Steve over to settle him on the couch, and Thor pushes through them, telling them to get away and keep watch.  “It barely hit me,” Steve says softly, head dropping back.

 

“You’re still fucking bleeding,” Thor says before he starts cutting open Steve’s shorts.  “Jesus,” he says as he starts cleaning it, and then pauses, looking back to find everyone standing together, watching him, “Any of you good with a needle?”

 

“Bruce was,” Tony says, and that’s when Thor notices.

 

“What the fuck?  Where the fuck is he?”

 

“We don’t know,” Natasha says, arms crossing over her body as she holds onto her elbows, “Someone took him.”

 

“I’m okay with one,” Tony says, “I’ve had to help my dad a few times.  Got a clean one?”

 

“Yeah, and thread.  You sure?”

 

“As sure as I can be,” Tony says as he comes over, waiting for Thor to move over.  He finishes cleaning it up as Tony reaches for the whiskey, handing it over to Steve before he dumps some over his leg, and somehow, they survive their first night of hell.

 

Tony stitches Steve up, thankful it’s only a few, though he still frowns at the shoddy work his shaking hands have produced.  Thor tapes some gauze down, slaps him on the chest, and goes off to find something to help with the pain.

 

He ends up staying on the couch, and Tony stays downstairs with him, though he doesn’t sleep much, instead staring at the door and waiting.

 

Nat goes upstairs with Clint and a bottle of vodka, and eventually, they both pass out.  Thor retires after a couple hours, leaving Tony with a gun and taking one upstairs with him.  Daylight feels like it may never come, but Tony is asleep before morning arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excellent news! I finished writing this the other day, and some of you may have seen that there's a set amount of chapters for this now. There will be five in total, so we'll be finished with this sometime next week. I'm not ready for it to be over! It was so emotionally draining writing the last chapter, so I hope you guys really enjoy the rest of this. Also, I just spent eight hours hiking in the woods, so I thought this was particularly appropriate to post today. Don't forget to leave your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha wakes to a warm body next to her, and though she knows it isn’t Bucky, she lets herself pretend for a moment.  When she stirs, Clint wakes immediately, though, and the dream is shattered as he lays a hand against her arm and says, “Nat?” in a voice that belongs to him.

 

“I’m awake,” she murmurs, “I don’t want to be, but I am.”

 

“Are you hungry at all?” Clint asks.

 

She hates to admit she is, but she knows it won’t bring Bucky back, to let herself waste away, and so she nods.  “Yeah,” she says as she pushes upright, “I could eat.  We should look for Bruce first, though.”

 

“Good idea,” Clint says, following her out of bed, “Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll go wake the others?”

 

“Okay,” Natasha says, already heading for the dresser.

 

Clint leaves after a moment, lingering to watch her open a drawer, hand stopping on an article of clothing, and when the door is closed, Nat sinks to the floor, pulling Bucky’s shirt with her.  She buries her face in it, crying without reserve.

 

She curls over, pressing against her thighs as her body shakes under the onslaught.  The door opens again, and she doesn’t bother to compose herself, instead shatters, sobs, “It’s not _fair_.”

 

“Nat,” Clint sighs, coming over and kneeling beside her, drawing her into his arms, “I know.  I’m so sorry.”

 

“I don’t want your apology,” Nat says, pushing away from him, “I want this to be _over_.  You knew he didn’t want to come,” she continues, throwing Bucky’s shirt at him before she stands, “You knew he had all the same fears Tony has, and while you were busy laughing at Tony, you kept convincing Bucky that everything would be alright, that _shit like this wouldn’t happen_!”

 

“Nat—”

 

“I want to go home, Clint.  I have to bury my boyfriend and fucking move on, but first, we have to get out of here.  It isn’t safe.”

 

“Okay,” Clint says, nodding, “Thor’s making breakfast, and then we’ll get Tony to fix the cars while we look for Bruce, and we’ll get out of here.”

 

“Thank you,” Natasha snaps before stalking into the bathroom.

 

Clint sighs and turns away, heading out of the room.

 

Downstairs, Tony wakes to the sound of someone humming softly in the kitchen.  When he sits up from the floor, frowning and rubbing at his back, he looks over to find Thor making scrambled eggs.  “Morning,” Thor says, his voice somehow maintaining its cheerfulness.

 

“Morning,” Tony grumbles, slowly getting to his feet, “Been outside yet?”

 

“No,” Thor says, “And neither should you.  We’re going to eat first, get some nutrients in us, and then we’ll go out and look for Bruce.”

 

“Someone should stay back with Steve,” Tony says around a yawn as he stretches.

 

“You need to get those cars up and running, so he’ll be fine with you.  The rest of us will go out to look for Bruce.”

 

“Thor,” Tony says softly as he comes around the table.

 

“What’s up, small fry?” he says, looking over his shoulder and smiling when Tony leans against him, head dropping onto his arm.  Thor turns on a skillet, gesturing vaguely to a frozen packet of hash browns, so Tony straightens, getting to work.

 

“Can you please find him?” Tony asks, “He’s my best friend.”

 

“More than Steve?” Thor teases, elbowing him.

 

“I’ve known him since kindergarten,” Tony says, leaning up onto his toes to bump his hip against Thor’s, “He’s always been there.  He didn’t even want to come,” he admits, frowning down at his hash browns, “I told him that if he let me die alone in the woods, I was going to come back to haunt him.”

 

“You really did think this was going to happen, didn’t you?” Thor says, looking over at him with a strange expression.

 

“I mean, _no_ ,” Tony says, “I had nightmares about it, sure.  We were going up to a cabin in the woods for a week, who wouldn’t think about it?  But I didn’t actually think we’d be strung up and skinned alive.  _Shit_.  I just want to go home.”

 

“Get those cars working,” Thor says, “Because so do I.”

 

When breakfast is almost ready, Tony goes over to wake Steve, kneeling next to the couch and slowly running the backs of his fingers over Steve’s face.  “Hey sugar,” he says softly when Steve blinks awake, looking blearily at him, though he smiles when he recognizes Tony.

 

“Mere,” Steve mumbles, lifting a hand to circle Tony’s wrist and tug lightly at him.  Tony goes, letting Steve pull him closer until he can kiss him, soft and slow and everything Tony needs right now.  When Steve releases him, Tony exhales hard, pressing their foreheads together.  “I love you,” he whispers.

 

Steve’s face transforms, joy filling his features as he says, “I love you, too.  I promise we’re going to get out of this.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that.”  He straightens away from Steve, and then sets about helping him get up.  He hobbles a little, but he’s fine without Tony, and the pain is manageable.

 

They eat in silence until Steve sighs and says, “We’re going home today.”

 

“I am looking forward to every second of that eight hour drive,” Tony says earnestly, “Clint, do you have any spare car parts?”

 

“Come again?” Clint says, bewildered.

 

“You ever take apart a car with your dad up here?”

 

“I can change a tire,” Clint says, “And that’s about it.”

 

“Useless,” Tony mutters, though he’s grinning, so he laughs when Clint throws a piece of bacon at him.

 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Nat says, getting up, “Let’s go look for Bruce.”

 

They don’t get far.

 

Steve is the first one outside, claiming he wants to be closer to Tony in case anything happens, though he promises to say near the cabin and guard it.  Nat and Tony are behind him, bickering about where to look first, and Steve’s just reaching the edge of the porch when he sees it, something large hanging from a tree above the truck.

 

He frowns, moving toward the railing and leaning against it, peering out.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he says before he turns quickly, “Tony, don’t look.”

 

He grabs for him, but Tony’s already following Steve’s line of sight.

 

“No,” he says, his voice cracking.

 

“Tony, stop,” Steve says, pushing away from the railing, “Look at me.”

 

Tony twists away from him, running down the stairs as Natasha stares in horror.  “Steve,” she says softly, “Tell me that’s not him.”

 

Tony starts vomiting, one hand braced against the truck as he hunches over.

 

“No fucking way,” Thor says, staring at Tony and not at the body in the trees, and then, to everyone’s utter confusion, Thor storms down the stairs, over to Tony, and grabs him, throwing him back against the truck.  “What the fuck are you playing at?” Thor roars, getting in Tony’s face.

 

“What the hell?” Tony yells, shoving at him, but Thor smacks his hands out of the air, pinning Tony against the truck.

 

“You just fucking said strung up and skinned, and look what we come out here to find!”

 

“Thor!”  Steve yanks him back, ducking a fist and delivering a quick jab to his chest, sending Thor stumbling back a step.  “Stop,” he says when Thor recovers, shoulders going back.

 

“He—”

 

“You honestly expect me to believe this is his fault?” Steve explodes, stepping in front of Tony, “You think he’s capable of doing— _that_?  Jesus.  Look at that.  Tony would _never_.”

 

“We have to get him down,” Tony says, and then he’s climbing into the back of the truck before anyone can stop him.

 

“Fuck,” Thor says, “Wait.”

 

He clambers up after him, getting into the bed as Tony pulls himself up onto the roof before he pauses.  Tony looks down at his feet, trying to dig deep and find something like strength, and then Steve’s hand is on his ankle, thumb rubbing lightly, and he nods before looking up.

 

What’s left of Bruce is hanging by his feet from a thin branch.  There are strips of flesh hanging from his torso, and he’s stopped bleeding, instead is clammy to the touch when Tony tries to reach up to free him.  “ _Fuck_ ,” Tony sobs, his chin trembling as he fights tears because he can’t reach, and Bruce is just hanging there, with nothing left of him, and he can’t _do this_.

 

“I can’t,” he breaks, dropping to a knee and closing his eyes, pressing his face into his hands, “I can’t do this.”

 

Someone takes a rasping breath, and when Tony jerks his gaze up, he jumps so bad, he skids right off the roof.  Steve tries to catch him, but his leg collapses under him, and they thunder against the ground.  Tony’s spooked, though, _badly_ , and he scrambles away from Steve, shaking so bad that he falls as soon as he’s upright again.

 

“He’s fucking alive,” Tony stammers, heels kicking up dirt as he tries to back away, “He’s fucking _alive_.”

 

“Jesus,” Clint says as he runs past him.  He hauls himself up into the bed as Thor gets up onto the roof, the tallest of them.  Nat follows, and Tony just watches on, unable to process the fact that Bruce is _alive_.

 

“Ready?” Thor asks, hand finding the knot.

 

Clint and Nat reach up, and Thor releases Bruce, one hand wrapped tightly around one of his legs.  They slowly get him down, Clint kicking open the latch on the bed before he nudges it open and sits down.  As soon as Bruce’s body hits the metal of the car, he starts crying out, his whole body shaking.

 

“I don’t,” Clint says and doesn’t continue.

 

Nat sits by Bruce’s head, stroking his hair back.  “Hey,” she says, “Can you hear me?”

 

Tony’s name creeps in among the wrecked sobs, and Clint waves him over, scooting out of the truck bed.  Thor jumps down from the roof, helping Steve to his feet and sighing when he notices his stitches have ripped open, blood leaking down his leg.

 

When Tony appears, Natasha shakes her head and quietly gets out, giving Tony space.  Tony swallows and climbs up, sitting next to Bruce’s shoulder.  “Hey man,” Tony whispers, “It’s me.”

 

“It hurts,” Bruce mumbles, one of his hands twitching.

 

Though his stomach is rolling at the thought of it, Tony takes Bruce’s hand, swallowing thickly.  “It’s going to be okay,” Tony lies.

 

“You said you’d haunt me if you died alone out here,” Bruce tries to tease, “Guess it’s my turn.”

 

“Bruce,” Tony breaks, tears falling freely as he leans toward him, and everything leaves him but this moment as he presses his forehead lightly against Bruce’s, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

 

“Don’t tell Betty about—just tell her I had a good time before,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “And—fuck, _end it_.”

 

“What?” Tony says, abruptly pulling away.  There’s a smear of blood and _matter_ across his forehead, and though he can feel it, he’s too stunned by what Bruce is asking of him.

 

“This could take _hours_ ,” Bruce says slowly, “Please.  It hurts so much.”

 

“Bruce, I can’t do that.”

 

“You have to.”

 

“Bruce—”

 

“Tony,” his name comes out around a sob, and Bruce opens his eyes, finds Tony’s gaze again, “I would do it for you.”

 

“No,” Tony says, shaking his head.

 

“This is worse.  You know worse.”

 

Tony’s face goes blank at these words, and he holds Bruce’s gaze for a moment longer before he nods once, lifts his hand to kiss it, and then slides out of the truck bed.

 

“Tony,” Steve says, but Tony walks past him, making for the cabin.  They’re all still standing there when Tony comes back out, and Steve’s the first one to see the gun in his hand.  “Shit,” he says, fingers tightening around Thor’s arm where he’s leaning on him.

 

“What are you doing?” Nat screams when she finally sees what Tony is holding.

 

Clint sees it, too, and they both start running for him, but Steve lets go of Thor, holding onto the truck as Thor intercepts them, opening his arms wide and stopping both of them.  “Dude!” Clint yells, jumping back, “What the fuck!”

 

“Nat, stop,” Thor says, wrapping an arm around her, “It’s better this—”

 

Thor closes his eyes when Tony pulls the trigger, and Clint drops to his knees, mouth hanging open in disbelief.  Tony staggers back a step, lifting a shaking hand to flick the safety on before he drops the gun, biting his lip so hard he tastes copper.

 

Blood drips from the back of the truck.

 

——

 

The next hour passes in careful precision.  Tony remembers all of it with startling clarity, and though that terrifies him a little, that he just shot his best friend in the head and is now fighting with the jeep’s innards, he can’t help but continue on.

 

When Thor has coerced Nat into  _not_  trying to strangle Tony, he forces her into helping him get Steve inside and stitch him up again.  Even as he turns, Tony shakes his head once and says, “I’ll fuck up.  My hands—” and doesn’t finish speaking, but his hands are trembling so bad that they bounce against his thighs, and Thor understands.

 

“Fucking  _shit_ ,” Clint says when the three of them disappear inside, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

 

“He asked me to,” Tony says, his tone even and devoid of anything but the present moment, this detachment that is going to save his life, “He would have done the same thing for me.”

 

“I know,” Clint says, “I get it.  If that was Nat, I—I just don’t know if I would’ve had the guts.”

 

Tony turns halfway, not looking at Clint but looking away from Bruce.  “It’s not guts,” he says quietly before he bends, lifting the gun and holding it out.  “Stay out here with me?” he asks.

 

It takes a moment, but Clint finally takes the offered gun and goes to stand guard while Tony walks over to the jeep.  It takes all of four minutes, and he can’t stand the fact that Bruce is lying just behind him, and he finally jerks away from the jeep and stalks back toward the truck.

 

“What are you—” Clint asks, breaking off with a sigh as he watches Tony heave Bruce’s body toward him, and then he continues, “Do you need help?”

 

Tony just grunts at him, and so Clint starts for him, but one sharp look from Tony, and he backs away, instead leading the way over to where Bucky is still lying.  He unrolls the tarp covering him a little, enough that they can place Bruce inside, and, as soon as that’s over, Tony makes his way quickly back to the jeep, arms and shirt covered in dark blood and bits of Bruce.  Clint sighs, but doesn’t comment.

 

And so, they sit outside, Tony swearing recreationally while he works, smearing grease and the occasional fluid until he’s a sight to behold.  Thor appears an hour later, pale under the sun, and Tony pauses for only a heartbeat to see Thor nod in his direction, and then he gets back to work.

 

“It’s quiet,” he says, coming over to Clint.

 

“Don’t say too quiet,” Clint murmurs from his position against the truck’s back wheel, head tipped up and eyes closed.

 

“Well,” Thor says, dropping down next to Clint, “How’s it coming, Tony?”

 

“Fucking impossible,” Tony mutters darkly, sitting back on his heels.  That alone is interesting to witness, as he’s crouched over the hood of the car, bare feet balanced along the front and side, though he sinks to almost sitting easily, hands held out in front of him, hovering over the engine.  “I just—I can’t figure out what’s wrong.”

 

“Is that infuriating to you?” Thor asks as the door opens, admitting Natasha.

 

Tony doesn’t look up, instead staring in frustration into the car.  “Incredibly,” he mumbles.

 

“Hey,” Clint says, opening his eyes as Nat approaches.

 

“You goddamn bastard,” she growls, and Clint jumps up at the same time she grabs a fistful of Tony’s shirt and yanks, effectively unbalancing him and throwing him off the jeep.  He yelps, crashing to the ground, twisting so that he lands half on his front, hands thrown out in front of him.  “I can’t believe you would do that to him!” she screams, foot sailing through the air in a well-aimed kick.  The wind crashes out of Tony as he sags into the ground, groaning.

 

“Nat!” Clint yells, grabbing her and pulling her away from him, “What the hell!”

 

“You cannot possibly be defending him!” she roars, slamming out of Clint’s grasp and throwing a sharp punch against his chest.  He caves under the hit, though he quickly recovers when she makes for Tony again, who is slowly pushing upright.

 

Nat’s foot soars again, but Tony is ready this time, and he snatches her ankle, pulling hard.  She goes down as he clambers to his feet, breathing hard.  “Can you even imagine how painful that was?” he shouts, looming over her, “Do you know what his last hours would have been like?  I would have never gotten the cars fixed in time, and he would have died in  _agony_!  He asked me to fucking  _help_ him, and it’s not my fault you don’t have the empathy to see that!”

 

“You—”

 

“Enough!” Thor yells, stepping between them as Natasha starts to get to her feet, “This is exactly what they want, us fighting.  We have to stick together and support each other.  We need to be a unit.”

 

“Might be hard with a fucking  _murderer_ in our midst,” Natasha snarls, looking around Thor to Tony, “You said it yourself.  He predicted exactly what would happen.  We should be watching him, not the woods.”

 

“Alright,” Clint snaps, curling a hand around her upper arm and dragging her away.  Nat lets herself be led, and Tony tries to resist the urge to panic at the thought that they might actually blame him for all of this when he hears Clint say, “What the fuck is your problem?  Tony’s an asshole, but he’s our friend, and he loved Bruce.  You need to calm down.”  He deflates at this, looking up only when Thor approaches him.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Not really,” Tony admits, “I need a break from being out here.”

 

“Steve’s a stubborn jerk and went upstairs,” Thor says.

 

“Thank you for helping him,” Tony says, and then he disappears, breaking into a jog as he nears the porch.  When he gets inside, he dodges Nat glowering in the kitchen and runs up the stairs.  Steve isn’t in bed, but the water is on down the hall, and so Tony turns back out of their room and follows the sound until he’s knocking and opening the door into a hot, steam-filled room.

 

“Is that you?” Steve asks.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says softly, “Can I join you?”

 

“You need to,” Steve says, “It’s amazing in here.”  Tony allows himself a small smile before he starts undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor before he pulls back the sliding door and steps inside.  “How do you get so messy all the time?” Steve asks, looking down at him with a fond smile.  “Here.”  He steps out from under the spray gingerly, favoring his good leg, and Tony switches places with him, groaning as his eyes slip shut when the water starts to beat over him.  “Turn,” Steve murmurs, hands flitting across his body as he nudges at his shoulder.

 

Tony does as he’s told, humming happily when Steve’s fingers are suddenly in his hair, pulling it under the water before he’s getting shampoo.  This is hardly the first time they’ve showered together, but it’s been some time since they lavished so much attention on one another, and when they’re finally drying off later, Tony’s body feels loose and unhinged.

 

“Come on,” Steve says, taking his hand and leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to their room.

 

It starts to hit him slowly.

 

He knows what happened today.  He knows what he did.  He knows that it was the right thing, and that he likely saved Bruce enormous amounts of pain, but it’s starting to form an unmanageable pit in his stomach, gnawing away at his insides until Tony feels like he’s being ripped apart with excruciating precision.

 

“I know,” Steve says when it starts to shatter him, “I’m so sorry, Tony.”

 

Tony tries to speak and fails, instead lets it overwhelm him, this black surge of sorrow, an overpowering force of darkness.  “I can’t—I can’t even—get us— _out_ ,” he chokes, letting Steve wrap him up carefully, hold him safe from the world.

 

“You can,” Steve says, releasing one of his arms to reach for the blankets and tug them backward before he urges Tony onto the bed, naked and shaking.  Tony makes his way over to his side without any recollection of moving, but then there’s Steve again, drawing him close and dropping the blankets over their shoulders.  “I have faith in you,” Steve whispers, pressing a warm kiss to his forehead.

 

“I don’t,” Tony sobs, clutching at him.

 

“Sh,” Steve soothes, “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“ _Steve_.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’s trying to eat me alive.”

 

“I know,” Steve says, though it snips at a small piece of him to hear that.  He’s been with Tony through enough emotional trauma that most would have walked away, and it’s been a long time since he’s heard those words.  “I’m here,” Steve promises, closing his eyes.

 

“Please don’t leave me,” Tony says as he burrows into Steve’s chest, “Please don’t let them take me.”

 

“I’m not letting anyone near you but me,” Steve says, tightening his hold around Tony, “I’m right here.  I’ll protect you.  I love you.”

 

Tony tries to respond and just dissolves instead, pitching briefly into hysteria before he falls into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left, and so many people to go! I hope you are all still enjoying, and don't forget to leave your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours later that day, Tony wakes up feeling recharged, and though he knows it’s mostly adrenaline that’s keeping him going now, he wakes Steve up with a hot mouth down his front.  Steve comes to with a gasp quickly followed by a frown.  “Tony—”

 

“Please.  I need you.”

 

It takes a moment, but then Steve nods, reaching for him.

 

After, Tony takes another shower, trying to scrub deep enough to wipe clean the marks on his soul, and then he goes to change, tugging on a pair of jeans, a Zeppelin shirt, and Converse before he heads downstairs.  Thor is making something small in the kitchen, but Tony bypasses him, grabbing a nectarine and an energy drink from the fridge.

 

Outside, he heads over to the jeep, yanking up the hood and frowning at it while he bites into his nectarine.  When he’s finished, he tosses the core in the woods, gulps half his Monster, and shrugs.  There’s only one thing for it.

 

He starts taking apart the jeep.  Thor won’t be happy, and so he works quickly, dismantling it and strewing parts in a semicircle around him.  When Thor eventually emerges, a sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other, it’s with a loud, sad groan before he comes over.

 

“Why?” he says pitifully.

 

“Finish chewing, and I’ll teach you,” Tony says as he carefully maneuvers his right leg in among the remaining parts and balances his foot on the edge of the inside of the jeep before he starts rebuilding.

 

For the next two hours, Thor helps him, getting one of the parts on the ground, watching him work, or providing muscle when Tony can’t unscrew something.  As the time passes, Tony starts grinning, and Thor even laughs once when Tony lifts a hand, wiping away sweat form his brow and drawing grease across his face.

 

Steve and Clint come to join them eventually, Steve sitting on the steps, leg extended out straight, while Clint comes over with a rifle hanging off his shoulder, looking smug.  “Looks like you’re getting close,” he says, grinning at Tony.

 

“Hopefully,” Tony says, looking up, “Where’s Nat?”

 

“Taking a bath.  She’s still mad at you, so I told her she wasn’t allowed to come outside yet.”

 

“Oh, whatever,” Tony mutters, turning back to the jeep.  He works for a few more minutes, and then, finally satisfied, grabs onto Thor’s shoulder and jumps down from the jeep, dusting off his hands once he’s vertical again.  “Ready?” he says.

 

“Tony,” Steve says suddenly, reaching up to grab the railing, pushing upright.

 

Tony looks over even as he’s opening the door, and he gets one foot inside when someone grabs his ankle.

 

“Motherfucker!” Thor roars, scrambling backward as Tony goes rocketing away from the car, slamming into the ground.

 

Clint stares, immobile, and then Thor remembers the rifle, jerking Clint toward him and around, yanking the rifle away from him.  It gets stuck halfway, and Thor just starts swearing, four letter words over and over again as he tries desperately to get the rifle off.

 

Tony gasps when the back of his head smashes off the ground, dazed.  Cold steel slides along his leg, and he jerks his other one down, the sole of his Converse connecting with something solid.  He hears a crunch, hopes it’s their nose, and then kicks again, and again until he’s finally released.  The jeep jerks, just a slight movement, and Tony starts running, heading away from the jeep and into the open area in front of the cabin.

 

His attacker has the same idea.

 

As soon as he gets around the jeep, he’s being jumped, a body landing on top of him, and he starts screaming as he fights, elbows going up and body thrashing wildly.  Rotten breath floods around him as his face is pressed into the dirt, and then a knee is caving in against his ribs a heartbeat before a knife comes whistling down to dig into the back of his shoulder, pulling a raw, primal noise from him.

 

Tony bucks, legs twisting as he throws the person off of him, and he starts to push upright, but the pressure sings up into his shoulder, and he collapses, sobbing.  “Please don’t,” he gasps, trying to move.

 

“Tony, _run_!” Steve screams, and then Thor is stepping around the jeep.

 

Tony tucks the knifed arm in against him, shoves against the ground with his good one, and gets his feet under him in time to come face to face with someone wearing a mask.

 

“Can’t get there round here, yah-up,” a rough voice says from behind the mask, and Tony spits in their face before throwing himself forward, his face exploding with pain as their skulls crash together.  He’s upright, though, and the pain is driving him forward, so when the other person staggers, Tony reaches back and yanks, letting out an inhuman noise as the knife comes free.

 

“Fucking fight me,” Tony says before he lets it fly.

 

His aim is deadly.

 

Something powerful cracks through the daylight.

 

Tony drops to the ground, crawling one-handed toward the jeep until he sees Thor coming for him, and he frowns.

 

“Bad, bad, bad,” he says before he hauls Tony upright and starts sprinting.  Tony follows blindly, seeing only a brief second of Steve standing, feet squared, no hint of an injury, a fucking _sniper rifle_ held effortlessly in his hands.  It jerks when he pressures the trigger, but he barely moves as he sights another target, shifting minutely to the left.

 

They’ve barely made it around the jeep and toward the safety of the cabin when it explodes.

 

Steve balks, folds over for a second, and then snaps upright again, watching.  Tony hits the ground running, Clint collapsing nearby, and he breathes in dirt, gasping for air.

 

“Get them inside!” he hears Steve’s voice as though from a distance, and then there are hands on him.

 

“Come on,” Thor says, dropping a shoulder under his arm, “Let’s go, princess.”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony groans, and Thor heaves an empty laugh, half carrying him toward the cabin.  Natasha sprints past them barely dressed, helps Clint upright, and Steve is the last one to join them.  When he does, he slams the door shut, locks it, and leans the rifle against the wall, making immediately for the kitchen, where he vomits into the sink, shoulders trembling.

 

“Yeah,” Thor says, “Me too.”

 

Instead, Thor goes to check the windows, staying out of sight of them.

 

Tony follows Steve into the kitchen, dumping into one of the seats at the table and dropping forward, one arm pillowing his head.  He hears the faucet run, and then Steve is saying, voice hoarse, “Alright, what happened?”

 

“Fucking stabbed me,” Tony mutters into the table.

 

“Where?”  Tony shrugs his bad shoulder, whining, and Steve’s footsteps fade away before they return, setting down the first aid kit by Tony’s head.  “Sit up,” he says, and Tony obeys, eyes closed.

 

“What the fuck do we do?” Clint asks, looking around at them, eyes wide with terror.

 

“Well,” Steve says as he cuts Tony’s shirt off, flicking his ear when he complains, “We kill them.”

 

“What?” Clint and Natasha say at the same time.

 

“I’m down with that,” Thor says, “Not that I particularly enjoy the idea, but it seems it’s kill or be killed.”

 

“What if we get the truck working?” Clint says, “And just get out of here?”

 

“How close were you to fixing the jeep?” Steve asks, frowning at Tony’s shoulder.

 

“Thirty seconds,” he says, “It was going to work.”

 

“Exactly,” Steve says, “And they were waiting.  We didn’t even see that one of them was beneath the jeep.  They’re smarter than us, but what they don’t know is how well-trained we are.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha says quickly, “Sure, I used to go to the gun range with Bucky, and I can hunt small animals, but this is way different.  How do you even know how to use a sniper rifle like that?  That was—fucking terrifying.”

 

“My parents were in the military,” Steve says quickly, beginning to dress Tony’s wounds, “As were Thor’s.  We’ve both had basic training.”

 

“And Tony?” Nat continues, jerking a hand toward him, “You really expect him to survive?”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony snaps, “Pretty sure I handled myself out there.”

 

“Yeah?” Nat challenges, “Good job getting stabbed.”

 

“Where do you think the fucking knife is?” he spits at her, “In someone’s fucking eye.”

 

Nat deflates a little, not responding as she glares at him.  Finally, she speaks, “Clint and I aren’t trained for _murdering_ people.”

 

“Then have fun dying,” Thor says calmly before he opens the fridge, taking a six pack out, “Here you go, chicken, you’re gonna need it.”  He slides one down to Tony, who snaps the top off against the side of the table and starts gulping.

 

“This is bullshit,” Natasha says furiously.

 

And then, Clint stands up, shaking his head.  “Okay,” he says, not looking at Nat when her gaze swings around to stare at him in disbelief, “How do we do this?”

 

——

 

After Tony’s been cleaned up and ordered to eat something healthy, Steve, Thor, and Clint gather at the table to start formulating a plan.  Tony starts off with orange juice, gets distracted looking in the fridge, and somehow ends up making dinner.

 

Natasha heaves a lengthy swear at them before stalking upstairs, and Tony just shrugs as he starts sautéing vegetables.

  
“I’m not happy that she’s upset,” Clint says, “We need to find some way to come at this as a team.”

 

“She’s scared,” Tony says, “Not to say that I’m not, or that the rest of you aren’t, but we’re all handling it differently.  I’m fucking starving, and you guys are planning, and Nat’s going to go sulk for a little bit.”  He shrugs.  “And that’s perfectly okay because that’s what she needs to do right now.”

 

“Point,” Steve says before opening his palms like an offering, “We’re well stocked here.  We have food, water, ammunition, and shelter.  I think we should stay here until we can either get help or kill enough of them that we can get out.”

 

“And the truck?” Clint asks, “Should we even bother?”

 

“I guarantee we won’t last long if we try to hitchhike,” Tony says, “I’ll fix the truck tonight.”

 

“It’ll be dark,” Steve says, “You—”

 

Tony points a knife at him.  “I said I’ll fix it tonight.  What next?”

 

“We need to be careful about this,” Thor says, “Calculated.”

 

“We’ll take shifts staying up,” Steve says, “Walking the inside perimeter.  I hate to be the one to say it, but—”

 

“You and Tony need rest,” Thor says, “Don’t feel bad.  You’re both injured.  You can take the last watch.  Clint, do you mind taking first watch, from—say—eleven to two?  I’ll go from two to five, and one of you from five to eight, and then we’re all up and getting out of here.”

 

“Can you take the last one?” Tony asks, turning halfway to Steve, “I’m going to go out at four to fix the truck.  That way, we’re good to go at first light.”

 

Steve nods, and while Tony continues cooking, the rest of them make plans for securing the house.  Around a half hour later, Nat comes down the stairs slowly, in one of Bucky’s shirts, her expression hard to read.  They’re all at the table, Thor and Clint laying out dinner, when she sits, frowning.

  
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, “I overreacted.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” Tony says, “You probably reacted more rationally than any of us.”

 

“It’s just—” she exhales hard before she continues, “This wasn’t exactly how I’d planned my senior year to go.”

 

At any other moment, it would have probably been inappropriate, but they all burst out laughing, only settling when the food is ready, and they pass around dishes, filling up their plates.  Somehow, for two hours, they’re okay.  Steve lifts his beer to say a small toast in honor of their fallen friends, and they spend the rest of their night telling tales of Bucky and Bruce until the night is dark, and their sorrow is a little less.

 

Clint bids them goodnight when Nat announces it’s midnight, and they separate, going upstairs while he sips one of Tony’s energy drinks and starts walking.

 

The back door is unlocked.

 

Clint swallows when he sees it, the deadbolt facing the wrong way, and the grip on his gun tightens.  None of them have left this door recently, but it’s always in use, and so he tries to convince himself that they just forgot to lock it as he creeps toward it, mindful of his surroundings, and slam the deadbolt shut.

 

He’s alert for the rest of his shift, shoulders tensed up angrily near his ears while he walks in slow circles, occasionally checking the windows.  He sees movement flitting through the trees twice, and he nearly calls for the others both times.

 

He can’t fathom what could possibly have made them a target, and though he doesn’t want to, Clint can’t quite help but think of every scary movie Nat made him watch over the years where the victims were just that.  There was never any reason, and he hates to think that this is just an act of senseless violence.  He almost wishes he knew why.

 

Around one thirty, Clint comes around the back of the house, pausing to look through the window, and when he starts to walk again, he jerks to a stop immediately, looking at the deadbolt as his stomach fills with dread.

 

It’s unlocked.

 

“What the fuck,” he whispers, rooted to the spot as he tries to reason it out again.

 

He can hear his own breaths, loud and angry as he tries not to panic and fails.  Someone is in the cabin.  Someone picked the lock and left it open to taunt him, to let him know that they were watching him.  Someone is _here_ , with them.

 

“What the fuck!” he yells, and they’re his last words.

 

A masked person with long hair appears out of the shadows, strangling his rising shout with a quick flick of their wrist, machete snagging across flesh, sinking through muscle and grating against bone as Clint’s throat is cut, spraying blood over the mask even as a high, thin shriek of delight escapes its confines.

 

“These are our words, silly!” the woman sing songs, leaning forward to tap the tip of the blade against Clint’s forehead even as he collapses to his knees, hands scrabbling against his wet throat.

 

“You fucking bitch!” Nat screams as she comes around the corner with a sidearm, “Put down the knife!”

 

“You’re so cute!” the woman giggles, and then darts forward, twirling away from Nat as she fires, her machete swinging gracefully through the air, catching halfway through Nat’s forearm.  “Oh, damn,” she sighs before yanking it out and throwing her weight behind it even as Nat watches on in horror, gun clattering to the ground and skidding away.

 

“ _Help_!” she screams, and then half of her arm is gone, she’s being shoved into the wall, and the machete whistles through the air, embedding itself in her skull.

 

——

 

“Go, go, go,” Steve whispers, urging them down the stairs.

 

A masked woman comes hurtling out into the living room.

 

“Just go!” Steve yells, pushing Tony toward the door.

 

She lunges forward, and Steve catches the arm holding the machete, quickly delivering an open-palmed blow against her shoulder that gives her pause, and then he snaps her arm back as Thor rushes her.  Steve releases her when the blade clatters to the ground, watching on as Thor punches her once, _hard_ , and she’s out.

 

When he turns, Tony is holding the sniper rifle, hands steady and breaths uneven.

 

“Give me that,” he says, coming over and taking it from him.

 

“Yeah, I so prefer—not that,” Tony says, holding up his hands, and then his mouth quirks.  “Actually, I’ll take her machete.”

  
“You said we were statistically more likely to die by machete than axe,” Thor says even as he grabs it, flipping it through the air until he catches the danger end, holding out the handle for Tony.

 

“Stop showing off,” he says, taking it, “And I was right.  Just because probability works in my favor doesn’t mean I’m behind this, though,” he adds.

 

“Dude,” Thor says, “It was a fluke.  You threw a fucking knife like it was playing card, and it ended up sticking out of someone’s eye.  We’re good.”

 

“Better be, or I’ll start practicing throwing machetes,” he says, and then frowns when he notices Steve is gone.  “Steve?” he says quickly, fear creeping in at the edge of his voice.

 

Steve comes back around, shaking his head, sheet white.  “Clint and Nat are dead.  Clint’s—Jesus, and Nat has— _fuck_.”

 

“Okay,” Thor says, “Obviously, we’re not safe here, and we’re not safe out there right now, either, so here’s what I propose.  The woods.”

 

“That’s a bad fucking idea,” Tony says immediately, “I’m not going in the woods.”

 

“You can damn well bet they’re waiting for you to try to fix the truck.  We’ve got to hightail it in there.  Our other option is to get on the main road and hitchhike—in a town where they’re trying to fucking kill us.  Our options are bad and worse.  What do you want?”

 

“I told you I didn’t want to get lost in the woods,” Tony threatens, pointing his machete at Steve.

 

“We won’t,” Steve says earnestly as he heads over to the kitchen, “We’re close to the AT trail.”

 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Thor says, staring at him in awe, “How do you know that?”

 

“Non-nature lover here,” Tony says, “What the fuck’s the AT trail?”

 

“Even you have to know that,” Thor says, nudging him, “The Appalachian Trail.  From Vermont to Georgia or something like that.”

 

“People hike that,” Tony says, bouncing, “Recreationally.  There might be someone.”

 

“Exactly,” Steve says, finally finding the map he’d spotted earlier and bringing it over to the table to unfold.  He traces a finger along the map as Tony and Thor make their way over, watching.  “Okay,” he says finally, tapping once, “We’re here, about three miles away from the trail.  I read up on the property on the way up.  It used to be a haven for hikers, an old hut until it was renovated, and Clint’s family bought it.  It’s just off of the trail, but it was never too far that people didn’t use it.  Clint told me that sometimes people still swing by, and his family decided to keep it open to hikers if they needed it.”

 

“Can you get us to the trail?” Tony asks even though he knows the answer.

 

“Between the two of us,” he says, looking at Thor, “Absolutely.”

 

“Then let’s go.”

 

They take turns getting ready, dressing appropriately, and Tony surprises them all when he comes down in a pair of hiking boots.  “I thought you might make me do something ridiculous like tramp through nature,” Tony says, and Steve sighs at him.

 

When they’re gathered at the front door, Steve says, “I think we should run.”

 

“How’s your leg?” Thor asks.

 

“Don’t worry about me.  If I fall behind, keep going.”

 

“That goes for all of us,” Thor says, nodding, “We don’t stop if it will kill us.  I know,” he says when Tony starts to protest, “I know you love him.  I know you would die for him, but that’s a stupid fucking idea.  If his ass is getting attacked, you keep fucking running.  If your ass is getting attacked, we leave you.  If my ass is getting attacked, you get the fuck away from me.  Tony,” he growls when Tony opens his mouth again, “Listen to me.”

 

“He’s right,” Steve says softly, “We’ll try to stick together, but we have to stay safe.”

 

“You’re both a bunch of—assholes,” Tony concludes, “I’m not leaving either of you behind.  Shut up,” he adds when Thor tries to fight him, “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Thor says with a small smile before he opens the door.

 

And they run.

 

Steve keeps pace, though his leg absolutely screams in protest as they near the edge of the woods.  And when they finally plunge in inside, Thor keeps going, and so Steve and Tony follow, slowing as they pick around roots and rocks.  They move loudly, though, until Steve finally starts to notice just how much noise they’re making, and he calls for them to stop.

 

“We need to be careful,” he says softly, “We don’t want to draw them to us.”

 

“Admittedly,” Thor says, “I have no idea where we’re going.  You should lead.”

 

Steve nods, moving forward, and they begin picking their way slowly through the woods.  The first mile isn’t bad, inclining steadily as they grope through the darkness, and then they begin climbing in earnest, and Steve starts to slow, his leg aching.

 

“Can we take a break?” Tony asks, watching Steve, and so he lies, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Thor says, and Tony hears how he doesn’t believe him, “Just a quick one.”

 

They walk for a few minutes longer before Steve finds a good spot for them to rest, and he shrugs out of his backpack as he sits, handing out waters and setting a bag of granola in his lap.  “Mother hen,” Tony accuses.

 

“You’ll thank me when we’re not dead from starvation later,” Steve whispers, so Tony makes a face at him.

 

They sit for a while in silence, listening to the noises around them.  Tony scoots over so he can tuck up against Steve, leaning lightly against him, closing his eyes so he can focus on just his sense of touch as Steve brushes his fingers along the inside of his arm.

 

“Okay,” Thor says after about twenty minutes, “Bad idea number two.  I need to piss.”

 

“Hold it,” Tony says, straightening, “We should keep going.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Thor promises.

 

“Dude, just pee here.  You’ve got a nice ass, I don’t mind seeing it.”

 

“He’s right,” Steve says, using Tony to push upright, “You should stay nearby.”

 

“Fine,” Thor sighs, walking a few paces away and turning his back to them.

 

“How are you doing?” Tony asks, stepping in close to Steve.

 

“Thank you for asking for a break,” Steve says, leaning down, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Tony whispers, “Please don’t die on me.”

 

Steve smiles and kisses him.  He lets himself surrender, just for a heartbeat, to Tony, memorizes the way he tastes, and then he steps back, turns, and allows himself one breath of terror before he grabs Tony and starts running.

 

“Where did he go?” Tony asks, glancing over his shoulder at Thor’s gun lying on the ground, the space where he’d been standing vacated.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve says, panic plaguing his voice, “Just keep going.  Please.”

 

Tony follows him, keeping close, keeping his eyes trained on Steve’s back, every step of his dropping into every step of Steve’s.  They move like they’re being chased—without care.  And really, for all they know, they are.

 

They run until Steve starts falling behind, and so Tony starts slowing until they’re stopping.  “I can’t,” Steve says, dropping to one knee, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Tony says, “We’ll rest.”

 

He helps Steve out of his backpack, getting him food and water.  “See, I knew you were smart, even brought fruit,” he says, smiling at Steve as he hands him a banana, “Eat it.  It’ll help.”

 

Steve takes it, though he’s frowning at Tony, watching him rummage through the backpack.  “Tony,” he says, his voice quiet and sad.

 

“Ah ha!” Tony exclaims, taking a pill bottle, “Thought I’d probably take something to chill out with since you were dragging me to the fucking woods sans wifi,” he says, uncapping the bottle, “ _And_ you were going to make me miss the new _Game of Thrones_ episode.  Here,” he hands Steve two, “They’ll help with the pain.”

 

“What are they?” Steve asks even as he takes them, swallowing.

 

“Nothing bad,” Tony promises, “Just painkillers.”

 

“You promised you stopped taking painkillers recreationally,” Steve says, pressing his foot against Tony’s thigh.

 

“I did, a long time ago,” Tony says, “But I got a migraine the night before we were supposed to leave, and I was nervous it wasn’t over.”

 

“You didn’t tell me,” Steve says.

 

Tony shrugs his good shoulder.  “You were asleep,” he says before he leaves the backpack and crowds Steve, winding his arms around him as he drops between his legs and burrows his face against his chest.  “I want to go back,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I want to convince you not to go.”

 

“I don’t think you could have,” Steve says, dropping his banana as he holds Tony, one hand cradling the back of his head.

 

“I would have found a way,” Tony says, biting his lip as tears threaten.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Steve rubbing circles into Tony’s back, and Tony crying quietly against him.  When a branch snaps somewhere nearby, though, Tony sits back, looking out into the darkness.  “You need to leave me,” Steve says quickly, already putting together the backpack, “Take this, and go.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tony says, shouldering the backpack, “I’m never leaving you behind.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says, “You have—”

 

Tony doesn’t shout when he falls, but the air rushes out of him, and he barely catches himself with his hands as a sharp coldness begins to flood Tony’s body.

 

“No,” Steve says, scrambling over to him, “No, please no.”

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony says, his voice cracking around his name.

 

“Where are you hurt?” Steve asks, hands patting blindly over him until Tony cries out, and he stops, feeling along his leg for the wound, swearing when he reaches it.  It’s just above his ankle, a wound meant to kill slowly, to debilitate until they expect Steve to leave him behind.

 

Steve steels himself, leans up to press a fierce kiss against Tony’s temple, and then forces himself to his feet, bringing Tony with him, who cries out, sagging against him.

 

“I can’t,” Tony says, “Steve, it hurts.”

 

“I know,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist, “Let’s go.  New plan.”

 

He leads them off, and it’s slow going, Tony leaning most of his weight against Steve, his breaths coming hard and fast.  When he starts shaking, Steve finally stops them, and Tony collapses, rolling over onto his back as he stares up at the trees, tears streaking through his dirty face.

 

Steve tears off pieces of his plaid shirt, wrapping it around Tony’s ankle, trying to give him some support, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to help, _anything_ , and Tony just lies there.  “Don’t you dare,” he says when he finishes and looks at Tony’s face, “Don’t you give up on me.”

 

“I’m so tired,” Tony whispers.

 

“Tony,” Steve says firmly, pulling up to sit, “Look at me.”

 

“Steve,” Tony says slowly, blue gaze meeting his, “I’m done.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Steve says, struggling to get to his feet, gritting his teeth as he feels warm blood starting to leak down his leg.  He brings Tony up with him, like dead weight hanging off of him until Steve sighs and shifts, kneeling so he can help Tony get onto his back, and he starts carrying him through the woods.

 

“Talk to me,” Steve begs when he’s been quiet too long, “Please.”

 

“Do you remember when we first met?” Tony’s breath ghosts out over Steve’s ear, “Do you remember what you said to me?”

 

“That you were an arrogant dick weasel?” Steve supplies.

 

“I was so proud of you,” Tony says, “No one had ever come up with such a clever insult.  They always just called me an asshole or told me I was soulless or some shit.”

 

“You couldn’t possibly have no soul behaving the way you did.  You were annoyingly passionate about everything.”

 

Tony lifts his head, hooking his chin around Steve’s shoulder so he can lean their temples together, and Steve smiles when he feels Tony’s smile pressing into his cheek.  “I told Bruce that night that I was going to try to court you.  He asked me to please not ruin you.  He thought you were nice.”

 

“Yeah, and then you started eating breakfast with me.  No matter what table I went to, you showed up a minute later to talk my ear off.”

 

“Hey, it worked.  It— _oh_.”

 

Steve looks up at the way his voice dissolves, and he almost stumbles and falls.  “We have to get out of here,” Steve says, staring up at Thor, “We have to survive this.”

 

“Steve, it’s okay.”

 

“We can’t— _Tony_.”

 

“Let me down.”

 

“ _Why_ ,” Steve breaks, arms coming out from under Tony’s knees as his head drops forward.

 

Tony staggers and drops backward, hitting the ground with a grunt before he forces himself up and limps over to Steve, drawing his face in his hands as he puts his back to Thor, hanging from a tree, a rope around his neck.  He’s cut all over, and Tony likes to think he fought until the end, killed more than they were expecting.

 

“Come here,” Tony whispers, pulling at Steve until he goes, sinking in against Tony.  “I know,” he whispers when an awful sob escapes Steve, “I’m so sorry.”  He closes his eyes, trying to block the image of Thor, but all he can hear is his laugh, and it yanks at his gut.  He swallows it down, instead focuses on Steve, the only real thing he has left.  “I’m right here, Steve,” he says, mouth whispering against his shoulder, “I’ve got you.”

 

“We don’t deserve this,” Steve chokes, “We—”

 

For the second time that week, Steve goes deaf.

 

He feels the sharp pull of Tony leaving him, his fingers scraping over his face, and then he’s gone.  They’re shoved apart by the force of it, Steve landing on his ass as Tony just— _crumbles_.

 

“Tony?” he asks into the ringing silence, his voice not registering to his ears.  He can see Tony, though, lying there, like he’s just fallen asleep suddenly.

 

He looks up, and Thor is still there, backlit by the rising sun, pale rays that start to creep in as Steve blinks and looks back down at Tony, motionless.

 

“Tony,” he says again, slowly coming around onto his knees and crawling toward him.

 

He grabs his shoulder and pulls, turning him over onto his back.  Tony is unseeing, staring up at Steve’s face without recognizing him, and Steve doesn’t understand.  He can’t _hear_.  He starts feeling along Tony’s body, trying to find something that will tell him a story, and as his hands come along to his sides, he’s met with a hole, his skin and muscle pulled apart like a cavern splitting open, just above his ribs.

 

He understands.

 

Steve breaks, folding over Tony as he clings to him.  “No, please,” he sobs, pressing his face into his neck, “Please don’t take him from me.  _Please_.  Give him back.  _Give him back_!” he screams, his whole body jerking with the effort.

 

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there, curled around his Tony, but when he finally looks up, the sun is rising in earnest, and he lifts a hand to wipe at his face, smearing blood and dirt.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, looking back down before he closes Tony’s eyes, “I will always love you.”

 

And then he leaves him.

 

He walks quickly, the rifle held across his body, marching toward the light.

 

He hears the road before he sees it, the rush of wind under a car, the crunch of gravel beneath tires, music blaring through windows, and he starts running.  His gait is awkward, stilted because of his leg, but he pushes onward, exhales coming out hard and angry.

 

Steve bursts out onto the asphalt and staggers to one knee, one of his hands smacking against the ground before he falls completely.  There is no car though he thought he’d heard it, and he gets up slowly, brow furrowed in confusion as he looks around.

 

Silence reigns.

 

Steve starts walking—limping—and it’s only when he spots a familiar curve in the road that he starts swearing.  He’s about a mile away from the cabin.  “Shit, fuck, _damn it_ ,” he says, turning and hurrying back the other way.

 

A truck pulls around the corner, and Steve lifts his arms, rifle swinging around as he starts waving.  “Help!” he yells, “Please!”

 

The truck starts to slow, and Steve drops his arms, waiting.  As it lumbers up, he says, “Please.  I’m being _hunted_.  They killed all my friends, and—”

 

The sunlight flashes off of a wicked, curving blade, and Steve’s head rolls toward the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! Oh my gosh, this last chapter is just insane. Thank you to everyone who followed along, and if you're very sad it's over, go check out the [space au](http://archiveofourown.org/series/466072), which is currently on fic three of five. I hope that you all enjoyed this last and wild chapter. This was so much fun to write. I've always been a fan of horror, but never attempted to write it before, especially an everyone dies version, so I'm very happy that I finally got around to it. Thank you so much, and don't forget to leave your thoughts!


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